


The Bidding War

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Blind Date, Embarrassment, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Human AU, another silly little story, bachelor bidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Bog gets wrangled into participating in a bachelor auction.





	1. Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

At some point Bog had completely tuned out his mother's voice. Yes, yes he knew it was a terrible thing to do, but she was singing that same song again about him finding someone. She always managed to bring any conversation they had back to the fact that she didn't want her only son, her only child, to die sad and alone. How ironic, she would mutter every time, that a man who wrote love songs and music for a living, had such a terrible opinion about love. 

They had this same conversation more times than Bog could remember. If he had a dollar for every time this conversation occurred, he could retire to his own island somewhere far away. 

He had just about managed to fully tune her out, his focus returning to the lyrics of a song he was working on dancing through his mind, when he suddenly heard: 

“Which is why I signed you up for the bachelor auction.” 

Bog's mind came racing back to the room. “What?” 

Griselda grinned at her son. “I signed you up for the bachelor auction my charity is running. You know the one...the musical summer camp for underprivileged kids...we decided that a fun way to raise money for this next summer would be to have a bachelor auction at the fall festival.” 

Bog pressed his eyes closed trying to run back over the conversation. “You signed me up? Why on earth would you do that?? I will just donate double what I did last year!” 

Griselda smiled. “Not this time sonny. You are going to participate instead of just writing a check.” 

“Hey now! I help out every summer at that camp!! I teach music!!” Bog folded his arms over his chest looking annoyed. 

His mother smiled. “I know dear and that is wonderful. The kids just love you. But this time you are helping with the auction by putting yourself up for bid.” 

Bog groaned loudly. He had been sitting in one of his mother's leather back chairs, but now he sank in it, sprawling his long frame across the damn chair like he was twelve again and she had just told him to go outside and play instead of being shut up in his room writing. 

“MOM!! Come on!! No one is going to bid on me! You could fill that space with someone else!” 

Griselda folded her arms across her chest, illustrating just where Bog had actually gotten his scowl from. “You are already signed up and you are going to get out there and let some nice young ladies with deep pocketbooks bid on you. Who knows? You might actually meet someone nice!! Someone different than that damn Sheila.” 

Bog growled. “I thought we had agreed never to mention her name, Mom.” 

“Sorry dear. Anyway, it's too late to back out now. You are simply going to have to do it.” His mother gave him a cheeky grin and walked out of the room. Bog stared after her cursing under his breath until he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Why was his life such an disaster? 

* 

Across town, Marianne was sitting on the kitchen table in her family home. She and Dawn, her little sister, still lived with their father. The house was huge, a mansion, leaving plenty of space for them all. Heck, they could go all day without seeing one another if they wanted to, but the main reason the girls stayed was that neither daughter wanted to leave their Dad alone. 

Their father had never been quite the same after their mother died. This way the girls could keep an eye on their father. 

Today, Marianne was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that the family cook, Lizzie, had made for her. Lizzie was doing dishes and humming to herself glancing out the kitchen window to watch her husband Pare, who was outside trimming the shrubs. Marianne was always sitting on surfaces she was not supposed to be on, the table (as she was doing now), the kitchen counter, the roof....Marianne liked to climb and she liked to sit cross-legged on surfaces not designed for sitting. It was a strange quirk that Lizzie had given up on taming out of her. 

Today was a replica of a nice peaceful scene from Marianne's youth, sitting on the table eating a sandwich while Lizzie washed dishes. Marianne had her Ipod in and was bouncing her head to music when the silence of the kitchen was suddenly broken by the squeal of Marianne's sister Dawn. Dawn's voice cut through the music of her Ipod, prompting Marianne to glance over her shoulder at Lizzie who shrugged. 

Dawn came racing into the kitchen, sliding across the floor on her socked feet and stopped when she almost crashed into Lizzie. 

“Marianne!!! Guess what??!” 

Marianne took a sip of milk, giving her sister an amused grin. “What?” 

“Okay, Sunny just called me and he is going to be up for bid!!” Dawn giggled jumping up and down. 

Marianne shared a confused glance with Lizzie. 

“I don't know what she is talking about,” Lizzie said and laughed with a shake of her head. 

“Okay, explain Dawn.” Marianne gave her little sister her full attention. 

“Well. You know Sunny spends every other summer working at that music camp I told you about?” Dawn explained taking a seat at the table and grabbing the other half of her sister's sandwich. 

“Hey!” Marianne swatted at her. 

“Anyway...” Dawn continued unphased by her sister swat. “They are having a charity auction to raise money with the highlight being a bachelor auction! Sunny is going to be one of the bachelors!!” Dawn grinned before she took a huge bite out of the half of PB and J she had snagged from Marianne. 

Marianne made a face. “Oh god, I've seen those things in movies and on tv...pretty stupid.” 

Dawn rolled her eyes. “All the money goes toward the camp, but I get to bid on Sunny.” 

Dawn squealed again. 

Marianne sighed. “Dawn, he's your boyfriend...why is throwing money at him exciting?” 

Dawn giggled. “I don't know, but it is! Wanna come with me? The auction is next weekend.” 

Marianne opened her mouth to say no...her immediate reaction to going out where there would be members of the opposite sex...which included pretty much any social gatherings, were out of the question at the moment. The whole idea of “mingling” made her stomach roil. But Dawn was giving her that large cow eye stare she had perfected over the years. 

“Fine.” Marianne finished off her milk, giving herself a mustache that had Dawn giggling, but saying nothing. 

* 

Bog had managed to shove the auction out of his mind pretty much right after his mother had told him she had signed him up...or rather he had tried to forget about it, but his mother was making it damn difficult. First, she insisted that he get a new outfit. When Bog had refused, stating that new clothes were silly and that he would be fine in what he had, his mother had glared at him. But that was a couple of days ago and she hadn't said a word about it since. Which, if Bog had been smart, would have had him getting suspicious, but instead he had been relieved, which he discovered was a bad move on his part. 

It was three days before the event and Bog was sitting outside in the cool autumn air as a nice breeze blew across the back yard sending leaves dancing on the air. Bog smiled to himself. He was working on a song about lost love when his mother came charging outside like a tiny bull with huge horns. 

Whereas Bog stood at six feet, five inches in height, his mother just barely made four feet and ten, but when the woman wanted to make herself known in a room, she never had any trouble. Today she wanted Bog's attention. Bog idly wondered if his mother had the same talent as Gandalf from the Fellowship of the Ring movie. 

He sighed, placing his pad and pen down on his lap to look over at his mother. “What is....” 

He blinked in surprise when he noticed that his mother was not alone. Standing beside his diminutive mother was a woman who looked as if she had just stepped out of a 1980's movie. 

“Bog, this is Aura Plum, but everyone knows her as Sugar Plum,” Griselda introduced the other woman. “She is going to style you for the auction. She does hair and clothing!” 

Plum grinned. “Hey Bog,” she said. “I've heard so much about you!” The woman had the strangest voice and as she stepped closer to him, putting out her hand, Bog could see she had blue eyes with a hint of purple in her irises. Her hair had been dyed a lavender blue shade and she wore a lot of rings...a lot which made her grip pinch when he took her hand. 

She shook his hand vigorously, crushing his fingers while smiling. “Shall we get started?” 

Bog retrieved his hand trying not to shake out his fingers. He opened his mouth to protest, but his mother cut him off. “Why don't we head into the living room?” 

His mother led the way, but not before she glared over her shoulder for Bog to follow. It was one of the several glares that his mother had patented over the years. This was “The Glare,” the one that said more than simply, “You better come along Bog”, it also shouted, “Don't you give me a hard time young man or so help me.” And his all time favorite, “You don't do this Bog, I will make the next week...No...the next six months of your life a living hell.” 

So when he received “The Glare,” Bog just got up and followed his mother and Plum into the living room with the look of a man condemned to the electric chair or to a hundred years hard time in the mines of Moria. 

* 

The day of the auction, Marianne came trotting down the stairs in a pair of denim shorts and a dark purple tank top. She yawned looking for the coffee when she heard a gasp. She turned around to see her sister, who looked—as usual—adorable. Dawn was dressed as if she were attending a semi-formal party. The dress had long sleeves with lace on the top up to her neck and a soft rounded neckline with a lace over skirt in a warm gold color. To round out the petite blonde's attire were matching Lolita shoes in white and gold with a cute bow to accent the shoes. 

Dawn frowned. “You're not going like that are you?” 

Marianne sighed. “No...it's too cold for shorts, so I am going to wear sweat pants.” 

“MARIANNE!!” Dawn squawked and Marianne started laughing. 

“Oh my god, Dawn...calm down. Let me get my coffee and I promise to wear a dress okay?” Marianne shuffled to the cabinet to get a coffee mug. 

“Okay, but hurry up!” Dawn fluffed her hair. Marianne groaned while pouring her coffee. 

* 

Bog rolled his eyes looking completely miserable. Plum had dressed him and fussed with his hair the day his mother brought her over which was bearable, but today turned out to be infinitely worse. Not only was Plum back, but she was making him strip down to his boxers as she and his mother made him try on...well...EVERYTHING. At least that was what it felt like. He stood there in his boxers, slumped shoulders and unshaven waiting to get permission to shave...but only to find out that someone else was going to be shaving him and he was having his hair done. 

Bog just kept repeating in his head. This is for charity, this is for charity... 

* 

Finally, the auction began. Bog was standing in the back with the other men, all who were to be auctioned off for the charity event. Some of them were actually people he knew. There was Thaddeus Pond, a guy who was a sound mixer for one of the performers Bog wrote songs for that had been number one hits for the singer every time. Thaddeus, or Thang as he had everyone called him, (Bog never did figure out that nickname) was a short man, maybe the height of Bog's mother, with a thick head of dark brown hair, muddy green eyes and a love of sweater vests that was unnatural if you asked Bog. He was nice enough though. There was also someone back here who Bog hated with every fiber of his being—the singer Roland Knight. 

Bog had written a beautiful song for the asshole, but when it came to recording it, Roland had taken it on himself to change the lyrics and the tune. Of course the song had been a huge flop, but Knight had blamed Bog and tried to take him to court. Bog had won, but he had never forgiven Roland for destroying the piece of art he had written. 

Bog was just about to look away when Roland turned and saw him. Bog tried to pretend he hadn't seen him, but it was too late—Knight was on his way over. 

Just when he thought this whole thing couldn't get any worse...Bog closed his eyes and let out a breath. He really needed to learn—it can always get worse. 

“Well, well, what are you doing here Bog?” Roland managed to say Bog's name in such a way that it made it sound like he had something nasty on his tongue. 

“Roland.” Bog said the man's name with as flat a tone as he could manage. 

“I really am surprised you're here,” Roland said as he spread his arms out expansively. “I mean...no one is going to bid on you...unless it's a pity bid. Now, that might just happen.” He smiled showing off his perfect teeth. 

For a brief glorious moment, Bog imagined hitting Roland in those perfect teeth. Instead, he walked away silently. He found a different place away from Roland next to a shorter younger man with dark skin. The young man looked up at him and murmured, “Man, you are way better than me. I might have hit him.” 

Bog glanced down and the younger man smiled. “Name's Sunny.” 

“Bog and believe me, I wanted to hit him.” 

“Well I think you probably did the better thing by walking away. Hitting him would have just made Roland the victim.” Sunny put his hands in his pockets while he spoke. 

“You know Roland?” Bog asked. 

“Yeah a little bit,” Sunny said simply. “He used to be engaged to my girlfriend's elder sister until she found him cheating on her.” Sunny frowned at the memory. 

Bog grimaced. “I would say poor girl, but it's a good thing she found out before they were married.” 

Sunny nodded his agreement. “Yeah, talk about a disaster. Dawn, that's my girlfriend, says it took a while for her sister to recover from it, but now she hates anything to do with love.” 

“The sister you mean?” Bog asked curious. It wasn't often he learned about someone else who hated love like he did. 

“Yeah, her name is Marianne. You would like her I think.” Sunny smiled, but Bog snorted. 

“Well, she probably would not like me.” 

Sunny was about to say something else when Bog saw his mother push the curtain aside and walk over to the group of men. 

“Alright everyone,” she said in a tone that was simultaneously professional and authoritative. “Listen up. These women are bidding on dates with you, not sex—remember that. If any of you misbehave I will personally make sure that your lives after this are a living hell...I know people.” 

Sunny paled. Bog leaned down. “She does too.” 

Sunny frowned. “What if the lady that wins you is your girlfriend...I mean, Dawn is planning on bidding on me.” 

Bog laughed. “Yer fine, my friend.” 

Griselda continued. “I want you all on your best behavior,” she warned, but then smiled. “This is for charity, act like gentlemen, be gentlemen. Alright. Now...lets get started.” 

* 

When the first bachelor walked out on stage all the men backstage could hear the whooping and hollering. Bog groaned. “God, it sounds like a meat market.” 

Sunny laughed. “Oh, they're just having a good time. It's all for a good cause. That music camp is great. I teach there every summer.” 

Bog frowned. He thought the young man had looked familiar, but Bog wasn't really on chatting terms with any of the staff that worked the camp. 

“I teach there too...” Bog muttered. 

Sunny looked up at him and stared, studying him. “I thought you looked familiar. I just couldn't place it! Yeah, I've seen you there! You write music don't you?” 

Bog nodded. “Aye, Bog King.” 

Sunny smacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh my god, I am so stupid! You're the Bog King! You write some of the best love songs!” 

Bog blushed and nodded. “Aye, but don't let it get around alright.” 

Sunny grinned. “Ah man, I have got to get your autograph before this is over.” 

Bog blushed more and whispered. “How about your date and you have lunch with me?” 

Sunny beamed. “Really?! Ah man, that would be awesome. Thank you!” 

Bog shrugged. “It's nothing.” 

That was when his mother called his name. Bog groaned and walked up with a pat on the back from Sunny who hissed. “Good luck!” 

When Bog walked by Roland, the man made a gagging sound. 

“At least the worst will be out of the way so the ladies can see the good stuff.” He said it loud enough for Bog to hear, though he acted like he was speaking to the guy next to him. 

Bog pointedly ignored him while secretly he knew Roland was right... 

* 

Marianne was sitting at the table she was sharing with her sister and a couple of other women that Dawn seemed to know. They were all chatting and giggling while Marianne sipped at her tea. They were discussing the last couple of men who had walked out on stage. Marianne thought it was funny listening to them. But soon Marianne tuned them out focusing instead on enjoying some of the petite fours that were being served with the tea, popping another one into her mouth when the next bachelor walked on stage. She hadn't really been paying attention to the men prancing on the stage since she had no intention of bidding on anyone. But when she glanced up and saw this man walk out, Marianne's mouth dropped open. 

* 

On the stage Griselda grinned; her boy was next. 

“Ladies, let me present Bog King,” she introduced him. “Bog King is a writer of love songs and he is also one of our teachers at the summer camp. Bog comes to our camp every summer to teach the art of song writing. Bog likes romantic walks, picnics and strolls under the moonlight. King also has a fantastic singing voice, plays around five musical instruments and is an amazing poker player. Shall we start the bidding?” 

It took a great effort of will on Bog's part not to groan at his mother's introduction. He knew he had to be bright red as he stomped more than walked the stage. He was surprised his mother didn't give his height, weight and dietary habits as well as how long it had been since he had had sex, which she probably knew—his mother seemed to know everything about everyone. He pressed his lips together as he walked down the runway trying not to see the crowd of women. No one had made a bid yet. He glanced toward the crowd. He hadn't meant to “look” but as his eyes roamed over the crowd Bog stumbled. There, sitting near the front looking as gorgeous as a brightly colored poisonous snake sat Shelia, his ex-girlfriend, the woman who had broken his heart. As soon as his eyes met hers she gave him a snotty smile and bid. “One cent.” 

It was more insulting than if she had simply said nothing at all. She was making a statement that he was worthless...and though it had been a while since their break-up, it still hurt. Why on earth was she here? The Sheila he remembered didn't have a charitable bone in her body. Either she was here for someone particular or she had come for the chance to humiliate him. 

* 

On the other side of the room, Marianne glanced toward the woman who had placed the bid. What an insult, what a bitch! Marianne wrinkled her nose...that woman looked like a bitch too and judging by the expression of the guy on stage, he knew her and didn't like her. Well, she just couldn't stand by and let that woman win him. No sir...not such a...handsome man. Marianne swallowed. She knew she was being a little shallow basing her desire to save him solely on how he looked, but...there was something about him that drew her...she couldn't take her eyes off of him. It wasn't just his looks, there was something deeper there, she felt. 

Before she could think what she was doing. Marianne's hand shot up into the air as she yelled. 

“500 dollars!” 

Griselda blinked at the young woman in shock, but she quickly recovered and a huge smile danced across her face. She had to swallow a delighted laugh, thinking to herself...well, well who do we have here? A woman who clearly saw the value of her son. 

Across the room the other woman snarled to herself. Sheila didn't really want to win Bog, but she thought if she did win him, then she was going to spend that date making his life miserable. Bog would do anything for that miserable little summer camp of his. “ 600 dollars!” Sheila grinned. 

* 

Bog's attention shot over to the woman who had yelled the $500 bid. When he saw her, he nearly tripped again. He righted himself at the last moment before he went barreling off the stage. She was beautiful! He was completely confused though. Why was a woman like that bidding on him? 

Sheila, Bog understood, ”buying” him would be a chance for her to humiliate him in some way. But this other woman? Something had to be up...didn't it? 

* 

Marianne scowled. Oh no, that other woman was not going to get him! Marianne stood up. 

“800 dollars!!” 

Dawn was watching her sister with wide eyes. What the hell was going on? Dawn glanced up at the stage and grin. Oh, he was a cutie...in a non-traditional sort of way, but still... 

* 

Sheila snarled. “$1000!!” 

Marianne hissed when her sister leaned forward repeatedly smacking her sister's arm. 

“Marianne, Marianne!! Go up to 1500...” 

Marianne looked at her sister. “You sure? What about Sunny?” 

“Don't worry!! I got Sunny covered...brought my credit card!” Dawn grinned. 

Marianne started to protest, but then her eyes shot up to the stage. Bog was just standing there looking upset, those blue eyes that were so startling in that incredible face looked panicked...it was clear he didn't want to be up there and he definitely didn't want to go with bitch-face...Marianne turned around to face the stage and with a clear voice she shouted. 

“$1500!” 

Sheila hissed standing up. “You don't have that kind of money!!” 

Marianne put her hands on her hips and scowled right back. “I do, so why don't you just sit down and shut up! He's going with me!” 

* 

Bog stood on the stage with his mouth hanging open...what was happening? He looked between the two women with a completely stunned look. 

His mother, on the other hand, was thrilled. She knew all about Sheila, figured the cunt (a word Griselda would never use aloud) was trying to humiliate Bog or to buy him and spend the “date” making him feel like shit. That seemed her style, but this other girl...now there was something going on there...the brunette clearly liked her son and she was willing to pay for him. 

Griselda wanted to squeal with delight.


	2. And the Winner is...

Roland's face displayed his incredulity. He was peeking out from back stage listening to this bidding war going between Sheila Horn (who he knew to be King's ex...because she had been cheating with him) He couldn't quite see the other woman, but all this over Bog King? King?! Of all people!! As Roland's eyes wandered the crowd, he shifted his position, jumping up on his toes trying to see who Sheila was bidding against. He thought he recognized the voice...but it couldn't be Marianne. Marianne would never come to an event like this. Roland pushed some of the other men back here out of the way so he could find a better viewing position. He moved to the right, in front of some stage equipment, but he managed to get to the edge of the curtain. Then he saw her, Marianne standing up and yelling a bid of $1500. 

Roland's eyes felt as if they would bug right out of their sockets. 

* 

Bog felt his eyes bug. The beautiful brunette was bidding that much? For me? he thought in shock. This had to be a trick of some kind...some weird hidden camera joke. There was no way a woman like that would be interested in him, let alone THAT interested. He looked to the brunette trying to figure out what the trick was...the scheme. But she looked...sincere. 

* 

Griselda grinned, her smile so broad that she was sure her cheeks were going to be sore. There was a big temptation to see how far both women would go, but right now the lovely short-haired spitfire had the winning bid and if Griselda knew anything it was to strike before you lost your chance. 

“1500 going once, twice SOLD to the brunette!” Griselda nearly jumped up and down pointing at the young woman. 

Marianne burst out with a cheer pumping her fist in the air with a loudly yelled, “YES!!” just before she realized exactly what it was she had done—which was just buy a man. 

She dropped back down to her seat, suddenly looking completely stunned. 

Bog stood there unmoving, slumping just a bit, his mouth hanging open. He wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling; a strange cross between happy (no Sheila) and confused about what had just happened? When he didn't move right away, Bog's mother stepped over to him, turning him around and giving him a light shove toward the back of the stage. 

Griselda wanted to run off the stage and hug this girl until she popped. FINALLY some young woman saw the worth of her boy! This was the best day ever! 

* 

Bog stumbled back stage. He was swarmed by the other bachelors patting him on the back and grinning as they said things like... 

“Nice job man.” 

“That was epic!” 

“Two women fighting over you, what the hell you got and can you bottle it?” 

Sunny was the one to stop Bog who was walking like a man in a trance. 

“Dude! Bog! You okay man?” 

Bog stopped looking down at Sunny. “That was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.” 

Sunny nodded. “It was pretty crazy man. Do you know Dawn's sister?” 

Bog glanced down in confusion. “ Dawn?” 

Sunny nodded. “Yeah, that was Marianne, my girlfriend Dawn's older sister. Hey, this will work out great! You and Marianne can double date with us!” 

Bog was still having trouble processing when he heard a hiss behind him. 

“How much did you pay Marianne to bid on you? I have never seen a guy so low as to pay for a bid.” 

Bog turned around to see Roland standing there looking annoyed and...angry. Bog curled his lip at Roland. “I didna pay anyone, you ass.” 

Roland narrowed his eyes. “That was my fiancee who bid on you.” 

Sunny piped in. “EX finance Roland. Marianne dumped your ass.” 

Roland shot Sunny a murderous glare before he turned his attention back to Bog. “Whatever you did, you know she only bought you out of pity. A beauty like her would never want anything to do with a beast like you. So don't be getting any ideas.” 

Bog snarled. “If you don't shut your mouth Roland, you are going to be walking out on the stage with a black eye and a bloody lip.” 

Sunny's eyes widened. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a sound of approval, but he stayed quiet. Roland stared at Bog. It was clear in Roland's green eyes that he knew Bog wasn't kidding—it was no idle threat. 

Roland pressed his lips together in a white line struggling to find a response when his name was called. Bog sneered. “Better get out there pretty boy, while your face is still in one piece.” 

With a huff Roland turned on his heel and stomped away. 

Bog sighed. “What an ass.” 

Sunny nodded. “You don't know that half of it.” 

* 

Marianne sat at her table still stunned. She had never in her life been that rash. She just bought a man. What was she thinking? And for that much money?? What...what if he was a jerk? In her heart she didn't think so. Of course, she was basing her theory on just seeing him on stage, but a jerk would not have looked like a deer in headlights on that stage the way he had...and that blush she saw wasn't put on. But still...fifteen hundred dollars? She shook her head slowly. 

Dawn giggled. “Oh Marianne, this is so great! I can't believe you bought him! I'm so proud of you!” 

Marianne had just picked up her tea to take a sip wondering what she was going to do with this guy when the woman she had been bidding against walked up. She was tall, taller than the petite Marianne and someone would find her attractive in that distant sort of way...like a marble statue, unmoving, unchanging and hard as a rock. 

“You know, Bog isn't worth it,” she said and then woman spat at her. 

Marianne, her shock instantly forgotten, stood up to face the woman. “You know what? I don't know why you were going out of your way to humiliate him, but he is a good-looking man who is helping to raise money for a good cause. You had no right to insult him like that.” 

The woman narrowed deep blue eyes at Marianne. “I used to date him. I know what kind of loser Bog is. He isn't a man, he's a cockroach, ugly and stupid. You'll see...he cares more about that fucking camp for stupid kids than he does for anything else. Or writing those shitty songs of his. You'd think he would be worth something writing those stupid songs, but he isn't. The first time he gets all weepy about something or other you'll be disgusted too.” 

With that the woman turned and walked off without another word. Marianne's hand balled into fists as she watched the woman slither away. The urge to go after her and slug her was so overpowering that she almost went after her. 

Marianne ground out through clenched teeth, “What a bitch.” 

She sat down and Dawn patted her sister's arm. “I'm proud of you for not hitting her, but this is one of those times Marianne, that if you had wanted to go after her and beat her up, I would have cheered you on.” 

Marianne blinked in shock at Dawn then started to laugh, but her laughter quickly died when she saw Roland walk out onto the stage flashing his perfect smile and modeling himself like he was on a Paris runway. Marianne immediately felt physically ill. 

Scooting her chair around to put her back to the stage she grabbed a petite four and shoved it into her mouth. 

* 

Roland jerked in surprise when he saw Marianne turn her chair and put her back to him. What the hell was going on? It was like he was in bizzaro world! As Roland walked the stage, his mind was running over the the injustices he was currently suffering. 

First Bog goes for $1500, then Marianne turns away from him. Despite the fact that he had cheated on her, but damn it all she should have gotten over that by now. All the other women had...they had turned their anger not at him, but on whichever woman he had been with. Roland had always been the poor victim, seduced by evil women. Never had anyone but Marianne blamed him. Roland frowned in confusion. 

He really thought when he stepped out on the stage Marianne would realize she had bet on the wrong guy and try to remedy that by bidding on him. But no! She was ignoring him?? 

Roland pranced the stage figuring that he would make up for it by going for a lot more money than Bog, maybe Marianne would get jealous when she realized another woman had him...but then to top it all off, Roland's winning bid came in at just $500!! It was an insult after the craziness that had happened with Bog King. Roland was so angry that he could spit. He was the handsome prince! He had heard it enough in his life that it had to be true and if you're handsome, you are supposed to get what you want...right? Well, Roland Knight wasn't getting what he wanted and that just wasn't right! If he could have, he would have pouted his way off the stage...a measly $500. Geez, he fumed. And to top it off, he went to some mouse of a woman. 

* 

At the end of the auction, all the winners were to meet in another room where they would pay for their bachelors, get some time to talk to the gentlemen in question, get to know each other and arrange their dates. If any bachelor failed to go through with the date, then he would have to match the donation of the woman they “stood up.” Bog had managed to find himself a nice safe corner. He wasn't sure what to do. Talk to her? Of course he should talk to her; she spent a lot of money on him. That made him cringe. She spent money on him. God that sounded...sad? Weird? And so much...what if he disappointed her. What if it was a pity bid? What if...He sighed at himself. 

He wasn't good at talking to women, or anyone for that matter. He was much better at writing his feelings down in song than in actually expressing them in another fashion. Bog rubbed the back of his neck nervously, wishing he was back in his rooms writing music. That was where words never failed him and that was where words weaved magic for him, in songs. 

Bog sighed again. How had he gotten himself into this? 

He was beginning to think that jumping out the window was a great plan when the double doors opened admitting all the women who had won. Bog pressed himself into the corner, though he couldn't help but look out over the tops of everyone's heads just as the swam of women entered. He immediately spotted her; there she was, near the back. Bog's heart raced in his chest. She really was gorgeous with short punky brown hair, amber eyes...it was almost as if there was a glow around her too. He shrank back against the wall again. His heart was in a panic, urging him to flee...he glanced sideways, yep there was a window. He might be able to get it open and out before she noticed him. 

But it was too late. 

She spotted him and made a straight line for her bachelor. 

* 

When Marianne entered the room, she hung back a little. She scanned the area nervously, playing with one of her fingers when she saw Bog King standing in a corner. His height was emphasized being around so many more average-sized men. Why the words to the Britney Spears song “Toxic” started to play in her head when she caught sight of him she didn't know, but damn....looking at him pressed against the wall....the lyrics floated through her mind. “A guy like you should wear a warning...the taste of your lips....” Whoa there Marianne, she thought to herself with an embarrassed giggle, the urge to keep him pushed up against that corner, to rub herself against him... 

He had spotted her the same moment she had seen him, his blue eyes going wide. God, the poor man looked scared. Marianne gave him a reassuring smile. Bog responded with a tentative smile in return. He really had a nice smile, she noted with interest. 

Okay Marianne, she thought to herself, you bought him, now go meet him! She steeled herself with a little wiggle before she made her way over to him when a hand grabbed her upper arm. “Hey Buttercup!” 

Marianne turned to see Roland. She let out a loud sigh of annoyance. “What do you want?” she demanded with a sour expression. 

Roland smiled. “Hey just wanted to say hi. Bet you were upset to see me up there, eh?” 

Marianne looked confused. “Yes, I was since I try to avoid you. Unless you meant surprised by your participation. Yes, Roland—I was surprised that you would particiapte in something that was to benefit others if that was what you meant?” 

Roland laughed. “Oh, you are so amusing Marianne. You know I would do anything for kids.” 

Marianne lifted a brow at him. “Really?” 

“Oh there you are!” They were interrupted by another voice. A young woman came over, her glasses slipping down her nose. She was short with delicate features, soft light brown hair cut in a pixie cut with wisps highlighting her dainty features, freckles and a rare charming smile completing the sweet face. The first word that popped into Marianne's head to describe her was dryad...but not the sexy dryad most books drew. This young woman reminded Marianne of Alan Rackham's drawings of dryads. 

The young lady wasn't anything like the type of women Roland liked to pursue...but she had the most charming smile and delicate beauty that anyone with sense would find charming, Marianne thought. The young woman stopped next to them and put her hand out to Marianne. 

“Hi! My name is Becky.” 

Marianne took the offered hand and found herself genuinely happy to met her. 

“Hi Becky, I'm Marianne.” 

Becky smiled back. The young woman's smile lit up the entirety of her face transforming her into a stunning beauty. Marianne glanced behind her at Roland who seemed bored. Idiot, she thought before Marianne returned her attention back to Becky. “So you bought Roland?” 

Becky nodded. “I did! Isn't it great!” 

Marianne started to say something nasty, but stopped herself. 

“You know, I hope the two of you have a good time.” 

Becky blushed prettily. “Oh I'm sure it will be fine. I saw you bought Bog King. That was some awesome bidding between you and his ex.” 

“His ex?” Marianne asked intrigued. 

“Yeah that was Sheila, his next girlfriend.” Becky nodded. It was clear from her expression that she was not a fan of this Sheila person. Marianne glanced back toward Bog who seemed to be trying to melt into the corner. 

“Just a real quick question...what happened?” Marianne fidgeted a little guiltily for asking a stranger about...well, her bachelor's personal information. 

Becky smiled. “Sheila is a real piece of work. I've run into her a few times. I design men's clothing, by the way. “ Back behind them Roland...whose attention had been wandering, perked up looking at Becky in a whole new light. 

Becky continued. “Anywho, I never heard Mr. King's side of it, but you know he writes music? Well he apparently wrote her a love song that she threw back in his face. It wasn't a good enough gift...she was expecting more.” 

Marianne let out a low breath. “What a bitch...” 

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Mr. King has always been a perfect gentleman the few times I have run into him. I've designed some clothes for him for events he had to go to. He is a dear to work with...” Becky smiled. “Anyway, I would love for a guy to write me a love song.” 

Roland came back over to them, draping his arm across Becky's tiny shoulders. “So you design clothing?” he interrupted. 

Becky grinned. “Yes I do, which is one of the reasons I bid on you Mr. Knight.” 

Roland laughed. “Call me Roland. Can you excuse us, Marianne...we have a date to plan.” 

“Nice to meet you Becky...Roland.” With that Marianne wended her way through the crowd toward her prize. 

* 

The corner was refusing to cooperate and let Bog disappear because she saw him. The beautiful woman walked right up to him with that gorgeous smile and those stunning eyes. Bog wanted to whimper. As she approached, Bog could see that she was even more lovely than he had first thought. Soft brown eyes, wild matching hair and delicate features, but anyone looking at her could see that those storybook princess features were deceptive—she had a core of iron. Bog felt a little skip in the beat of his heart. 

“Hi, you're Bog King?” she inquired. 

“Huh...yes, yes I am?” Bog didn't mean it to come out as a question. 

“Well, I'm Marianne Summerfield,” she introduced herself. “Let me know when you are sure who you are. I have a date with a tall man with very distinguishing features who I paid a lot of money for by the name of Bog King.” 

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a cocky grin. Marianne found that being cocky or a little more forward helped to hide her own embarrassment. 

Bog felt himself grin suddenly at her. 

Oh no...he liked her. 

“Well, I guess I owe you dinner? That was a great contribution to the camp. Thank you.” 

Marianne laughed. “I think dinner is a great idea and you're welcome. I think music is important.” She looked a little shy. “I actually sing.” 

Bog lifted a brow. “Really? I would love to hear you sing.” 

Marianne laughed. “So, dinner?” 

Bog chewed his bottom lip. “Well, honestly I didn't think this through very well...I mean I was sort of forced into this event by my mother.” 

Marianne laughed. “Let me guess...the MC?” 

Bog's cheeks blossomed red. “How could you tell?” 

“There was just a way that she introduced you, and then her reaction to the bidding.” As Marianne laughed, Bog realized that he really liked her laugh too. 

They were both quiet for a moment and then Bog asked. “If you ah...you don't really have to go on a date with me. I can match your donation. There is no reason to make yourself go...” 

Marianne frowned. “No. I want my date,” she assured him. “You can match it if you want, but I would love to get to know you. How about tomorrow night?” 

Bog blushed, but then nodded. “Okay, tomorrow night. I'll pick you up?” 

“That sounds nice.” 

After a quick exchange of numbers everyone left to participate in the rest of the afternoon events. 

Bog watched her go with a grin. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. 

* 

That feeling stayed with him until that evening when he realized he had no idea what to do for a date.


	3. Doubts

It was early evening, the sky having just turned that soft shade of sky-blue pink. The charity event was over, the luncheon done, and the place was empty. Everyone was gone except Bog and his mother who was doing some last minute cleaning up with her son's help. They were packing up the linens, plates and other miscellaneous items that the committee had brought over for the event. 

Griselda had waited until now, when she had Bog alone, before she started to grill him about the initial meeting with the young woman who had “won” him. 

“So the young woman that won you...Marianne you said was her name?” His mother wasn't looking at him when she spoke, trying to look nonchalant as she packed up some of the extra glasses that they had brought with them for the lunch, setting them in the box in front of her. Bog was lifting up boxes and packing them into the back of his mother's van with little effort. The man was slim, but strong. He stopped, wiping his hands on his slacks before picking up another box. 

“Yes, Marianne Summerfield,” he said in reply to his mother while he hauled the box into the van, shoving it to the front of the vehicle, making room for a few more boxes. 

“So, how was she? Nice? She was beautiful, I saw that much...have you thought about where you are taking her to dinner yet?” Griselda glanced sideways at her son. 

Bog sighed. “Actually, no—I have no idea where to take her. “ Bog stopped loading up boxes and turned to face his mother. He knew he was going to regret this, but... “I could use some help. We're going out tomorrow night.” 

Griselda grinned. She knew it took a lot for Bog to ask for help, which meant he was probably extremely nervous. She put the last glass into the box and walked over, taking her son by his hands and sat him down on the back of the van. 

“You remember I was telling you about that new restaurant that opened downtown?” Griselda asked. Bog nodded. “Yeah..isn't that the one your friend Aura owns?” 

“That's the one!” Griselda grinned. “Why don't I give her a call and see if she can't get you a table?” 

Bog frowned. “I suppose...” 

His mother elbowed him in the side. “Bog, just take it. It's a nice place where you can have a nice quiet dinner, eat some really good food...” 

Bog nodded shuffling his feet on the pavement. His mother frowned watching her son. “What's wrong honey?” 

Bog was quiet for a few more seconds, reaching back to rub his neck, a nervous habit he had had since he was a child, before he muttered. “Why did she bid so much?” 

“Maybe she liked the way you look?” Griselda grinned, but Bog shook his head. “No...no one likes the way I look mother.” 

“I do.” She reached out laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“You're my mother, you're supposed to...” Bog muttered. “She said she was a singer...maybe she thinks this is some sort of career move.” 

Griselda sighed heavily. “Bog, why can't she have just bid that much because she really wanted to go out with you? Why does there have to be another motive?” 

Bog growled. “Because women don't like me mother. I'm ugly, grumpy and plain foul tempered. I'm not any woman's idea of a prince charming Mam. No...there...there has to be something she's after.” He glanced sideways at his mother. His blue eyes were filled with such pain. He believed in love, even if he told himself he didn't, but a mother knew...besides, those love songs he wrote couldn't come from a heart that had given up. 

Griselda groaned loudly throwing her head back as if she were in pain. “Bog, you are not ugly. Grumpy maybe and your temper can get the best of you, but you know what? Those are just personality quirks...people have them...” 

She put her arm around her son, with a little pressure she forced him to lean into her. “Not every woman is Sheila, Bog. I know she hurt you. She was a hateful, shallow...cunt.” 

Bog snorted a laugh to hear his mother curse. She chuckled and continued. “But you know what honey, you are a handsome man...” Bog started to protest, but she squeezed his shoulder as a message to shut up. “You are a handsome man...” she continued. “Not classically handsome, but you know what? Most “classically” handsome men are ugly on the inside, like Roland Knight. No, you are handsome both outside and inside. You just need to be willing to let someone in again, let them “see” you Bog.” 

Bog sighed. “I don't know Mam...I just...” 

She squeezed him again. “Bog, loving and being loved also means letting yourself be open to being hurt. I know you don't want to feel that way again, but there is always the chance this could be different too.” She gave her son a smile. 

Bog let out a breath. “I love you Mam.” 

“I love you too, my little bug.” Griselda smiled. 

Bog started to laugh. “Oh God Mam! Don't call me that!” 

She started laughing. “No matter how big you get, or how old you are, you will always be my little bug!” She started to reach for his nose and Bog playfully batted her hand away. “Come on let's get this stuff loaded. I'm starved and I want me to grab us some Chinese.” 

His mother laughed jumping to her feet. “Sounds perfect.” 

* 

Marianne sat beside her sister as Dawn drove them home that evening. Dawn was talking a mile a minute about the date she and Sunny had planned. Marianne was only partly listening as she looked out the window thinking about Bog. He had surprised her when they talked. He was...she couldn't think of the word to describe him yet. He was definitely different—she liked that, a lot. She smiled to herself thinking about his smile, those eyes...the way he had tried to hide from her. He was endearing. 

“Marianne? Are you listening to me?” Dawn glanced sideways at her sister. Marianne jumped in her seat when Dawn reached over and thumped her on the leg. “Sorry, yeah I was listening.” 

“What did I just say?” Dawn narrowed her eyes. 

“You were talking about how you and Sunny were going to a fancy restaurant or something.” Marianne hoped that was what had been said, but alas...she was wrong. 

“I said that aliens had beamed your brain out.” Dawn stuck her tongue out. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” Marianne admitted with a soft laugh. 

“Oooohh about your new boyfriend?” Dawn giggled. 

“He is not my boyfriend.” Marianne growled with a bit more venom than she intended. 

“I was only teasing sis, geez. But you were thinking about him, eh?” Dawn asked again. 

“Yeah. He—he made an impression.” Marianne shrugged. 

Dawn glanced at her sister without a word. Marianne had fallen head over heels for Roland from the moment he asked her out. But this was different, Dawn was confident. Of course, Marianne had sworn off love after Roland broke her heart the way he did but...she had to smile, maybe there was a glimmer of hope still there because Marianne seemed taken with this guy Bog King. Dawn hummed happily to herself as she drove, letting her big sister continue to be lost in her thoughts. 

* 

The next morning Bog sat on his back porch writing. The back porch was a long, glassed in room filled with plants and comfortable patio furniture, including a comfortable desk chair that sat behind a plain desk. The desk itself was a soft light brown that went well with the patio furniture and held a banker's desk lamp with an amber glass shade that provided a soft light when Bog worked out here in the evenings. The desk even had a few randomly placed sticky-notes with stray bits of lyrics or song notes scribbled on them littering the surface around where Bog worked on his writing and enjoyed the quiet of the room. This morning he had woken up with a song dancing in his head. While he ate breakfast, which consisted of black coffee and toast, he busily wrote out the words, humming the melody as he worked. 

He was so engrossed in his writing that at first he didn't hear his cellphone go off. When it continued to ring, Bog, without thinking to look at the caller ID, simply reached over and grabbed the phone hitting the button. 

“Bog.” 

“Bog honey!” The voice on the other end was full of false joy. 

Bog growled, “Sheila, why are you calling me?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing? I mean, can't I still talk to you?” her voice purred back. 

Bog closed his eyes, the old pain surfacing. “What do you want?” 

“Well, I just had to talk to you. I saw that woman who won you at the auction. I am so sorry Bog! I tried to save you Bog, I really did, but that...well...not to be insulting, but she is one of those women who likes to sleep her way up...you know she is an aspiring singer right? Anyway, she bid on you because she knew who you were and I just wanted to warn you.” Sheila spoke quickly knowing she only had a short amount of time to get out what she wanted to say before Bog hung up on her. 

Bog was silent. 

“Bog?” Sheila sounded confused. 

“Don't call here again.” Bog hung up, not for the first time considering changing his number. 

Sheila frowned looking at her phone, but she smiled. It didn't matter...she had put the sliver of doubt in his mind...that was all it would take with Bog. She giggled. He was such an idiot. She hummed happily to herself; being cruel was just in her nature. 

* 

Bog sat there staring at the phone, the lyrics of the song he had been working on were gone, having dissolved under the nastiness of Sheila's call. Bog pressed his lips together and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could not believe she had called him...after all this time, after all that crap at the auction. He tapped his pencil against the table in aggravation and his mind wandered to Marianne. He couldn't believe that she would be like that...but he had been wrong before. 

What if he was wrong this time too? He squeezed his eyes shut. I am such a fool, he thought to himself. Part of him didn't want to believe it. Marianne just didn't seem the type of person to use someone like that...but... 

* 

That same morning, Marianne made the mistake of agreeing to let her sister do a full beauty treatment on her. Marianne tried not to show it, but she was actually excited about going out on a date with Bog King. She was lying on her back in a lawn chair that Dawn had dragged inside, with some sort of nice smelling cream on her face and a couple of cucumber slices over her eyes. Dawn was working on her nails when Marianne's phone went off. 

Marianne lifted a cucumber off one eye see her phone on the table nearby. “Hold on Dawn, let me get that.” Dawn held up her hands. “Just don't ruin your nails!” 

Marianne reached over to carefully pick up the phone and answered. “Heellloo!” 

“Marianne, I need your help!!” On the phone was Roland. 

Marianne sat up causing Dawn to pout. “Hey your nails!” 

“Roland what do you want?” Marianne growled. 

“I need help Marianne!” Roland sounded panicked. 

“With what and why would I help you?” Marianne snarled. 

“It's Becky!! How do I make her like me?” Roland sounded...serious? 

Marianne pressed her lips together. Dawn hissed. “You're going to give yourself wrinkles! Stop it!” 

“Roland I am not going to help you break that sweet woman's heart.” Marianne tried to relax and started to lean back into a prone position on the chair again. 

The line went quiet and then Roland spoke softly. “Marianne, I really like her.” 

“Are you serious?” Marianne sat up again making her sister groan and throw her hands up in frustration giving up on her big sister's nails. 

“Yeah, I am. We went out last night and she is great Marianne! I mean...she isn't the type of woman I'm usually attracted to, but she's smart and cute and funny. What am I going to do?!” Roland's voice carried a little bit of a sob in it. 

“Did you ask her out again?” Marianne tried to hold her hand steady to appease her sister. 

“I did and she said yes. I'm taking her out tonight to a really fancy restaurant,” Roland explained softly. 

“So what do you want my help with?” Marianne leaned back in her chair. 

“I just...I really want her to like me Marianne.” Roland sounded rather pitiful. 

“Roland, be yourself. Don't use all those stupid tricks you use on other women, don't be fake romantic, just do the things that feel right. Listen to her when she is talking to you, remember things she tells you...show her that you care about her opinion, about her...you know...pretty much the exact opposite of everything you did with me.” Marianne couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice, though she did try. 

Roland was quiet for a long moment to the point that Marianne wondered if he was still there. When he spoke again his voice was missing that “swagger” he usually had. “I'm sorry Marianne.” 

“What?” Marianne sat up again nearly yanking her hand from her sister's grasp. Dawn groaned and tossed her tools down stomping out of the room. 

“I'm sorry for what I did to you,” Roland clarified. 

Marianne frowned in confusion. “One date with this woman and you're a changed man?” 

She could hear the frown in Roland's voice. “I really like her Marianne.” 

Marianne took a breath and was surprised at the fact she didn't feel anything. Not jealous, not hurt...nothing. She smiled to herself. “Well, do what I said—be yourself, but make sure you pay attention to her. You want to win her heart...really win her, then you have to think about her and her needs, not your own. Okay?” 

She could now tell he was smiling. “Thanks Marianne. Think about her...got it...” 

They both hung up and Marianne dropped back down against her chair. This whole thing was like a Twilight Zone episode. 

Dawn returned to flop down on her stool and grabbed Marianne's hand back grimacing when she saw that her big sister had messed her up nails on that hand and immediately proceeded to repair the mess. 

“So what was Roland calling you about?” 

“He really likes that woman who won him at the auction and he was asking for my help.” Marianne shook her head looking stunned. 

Dawn frowned. “Roland...called you...asking for help?” 

Marianne nodded. “Yeah, I know.” 

Dawn sat back. 

“You don't think...that Roland is in love?” Dawn murmured. 

The two sisters stared at each other. 

* 

Bog fretted all day. He tried not to, tried to push what Sheila said out of his mind, but his lack of confidence in himself had him doubting... 

He sat down on the edge of his couch and ran his fingers through his hair, creating a wild mess. He thought of Marianne's face, her beautiful eyes...talking to her...she had come right out and said she was a singer; she had not hidden that information. 

“Ugh...” He ran his hands over his face and decided to do something that would help...he called his mother. 

He leaned back on his couch, his head hanging over the back waiting for her to pick up. After two rings he heard his mother's voice. “Hey sweetheart!” 

“Mam...Sheila called me.” Bog sighed into the phone. 

“What....what did that cunt want?” Griselda snarled. 

Bog chuckled. “What is it with you and all the cursing Mam?” 

Griselda laughed. “Sorry. What did she want?” 

“She says Marianne Summerfield only bid on me because she wants to use me to further her career.” Bog just blurted it out. 

His mother was quiet for a moment, then hissed. “That woman!! You don't believe her do you?” 

Bog was silent. 

“Bog, please don't listen to her. She just likes to cause trouble. You know that.” Griselda wished she was there to give her son a good elbow to the ribs. 

“I...but...” Bog stuttered. 

“Bog, honey...give Marianne a chance, okay? Don't condemn her based on the word of someone you know for a fact can't be trusted. Okay?” Griselda asked softly. 

“Okay Mam. Sorry.” Bog smiled. 

“Good. I love you. You have fun tonight—promise me?” 

“Yes Mam. I promise.” Bog laughed. “Love ya Mam.” 

“I love you too.” Griselda hung up, her eyes narrowed. Maybe it was time a mother stepped in and took care of that woman, once and for all.


	4. Cookie Test

It was the day that Bog was to take Marianne Summerfield out on a date; the day he was dreading. The day he might have felt a slight tickle of excitement, except that thinking about taking that gorgeous woman out to dinner made his stomach sour. Not because she wasn't devastatingly beautiful, funny and seemed to have an amazing personality, but because he just knew he was going to ruin it—someway, somehow. 

Bog stared at himself in his bathroom mirror, the music from his CD player pulsing behind him, the sounds of Garbage playing “I'm Only Happy When it Rains” drifting through the air. Bog leaned forward to inspect his face and found his features lacking, as always. He ran his fingers over his jaw and chin, and frowned as he scrutinized his sharp features. He had shaved, but as always, it was hard to tell, his cheeks and chin always looking like he needed to shave despite having just run a blade over them. He dragged his thumb over the scars that marred his chin, then took both hands and rubbed his thin cheeks vigorously. There is nothing in the world that could improve the way I look, he glumly thought as he glared at himself in the mirror. Bog sighed. This was the single worst, stupidest mistake. 

He hadn't been on a first date in years...YEARS. He had never been ' in' practice when it came to dating...he never really dated. It wasn't as if women threw themselves at him (not that he would want that either), but the few times he had managed to get the nerve up to ask a woman out, only a handful of times had it actually ended in a date and usually only one date. All because of Bog's crippling shyness. But now, he was so far out of what little practice he had in the field of dating that it was a little embarrassing. More than a little embarrassing, he admitted to himself. 

Then there was Sheila. They had dated, he supposed, but things had moved quickly between them and he had fallen hard, partly because he could not believe anyone—let alone a beauty like Sheila—was paying attention to him. Then she had ripped him to pieces. Used him and dumped him. It had not been a simple, “Oh no, it's me not you,” but she had given him a lashing with her words, hitting on every insecurity that Bog carried deep inside. She had torn him down and left him feeling small and terrible. Afterwards, he had fallen into a deep depression, though he had used that pain to write some of his best songs to date...full of pain, love, loneliness and heartache. 

Bog sighed as he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt for the hundredth time as he continued to stare at himself in the mirror. He couldn't really say he was out of practice dating really; he was just inexperienced. You can't be in practice if you never date, he silently told himself. The number of dates he had been on would be embarrassing to a high school student. But this situation with Marianne Summerfield was just plain odd. Bog fastened the button again and stared. 

Bog pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at his reflection. 

He wore a pair of tailored grey slacks with a button-down shirt that was a deep shade of aquamarine that complemented his eyes, or at least that was what his mother said when she thrust the shirt at him this afternoon. He had tucked the shirt in, then untucked it, then tucked it in and untucked it at least a dozen times until the ends were wrinkled. Right now the shirt was untucked as he slipped in and out of a vest he had had on. The vest was a dark grey and blue plaid that complimented both the shirt and the slacks, but he couldn't decide if it was too much or not. 

He took the vest off, then put it back on again just before he unbuttoned the button at the top of his shirt yet again. He did this routine at least five more times before he settled on wearing the vest. He sighed; his stomach was full of butterflies having a fight. He would be surprised if he was able to eat anything at all tonight. 

Bog put a dab of cologne on under each ear, the hollow of his throat and on each wrist, ran his long fingers through his hair wishing again he had nice hair...nice anything really. Then he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. No point wishing for the impossible. With a deep breath, Bog turned and stomped out of the bathroom, heading toward the hall. There he grabbed his wallet, phone and car keys. He started to grab his notebook with the pen that was hooked to the front cover. The notebook sat next to the car keys on the table by the door. The notebook wasn't big, small enough to fit inside the back pocket of his pants. He always carried one with him in case the lyrics of a song came to him while he was out. He finally reached for it and held the notebook against his chest. 

Bog took several deep breaths as he stared at the front door until he had almost made himself light headed. 

“All right. Go...walk out that door, Bog,” he told himself, then stood there staring at his front door squeezing the notebook tightly in his hand. 

“Go Bog, go...” he muttered then chuckled. He took another breath. “It's just dinner...she paid for dinner with you...she wants to eat dinner with you...you can do this.” 

Bog frowned slightly. “Except you're standing here talking to yourself, which is weird Bog...so go...” Bog nodded to himself and reached for the door. 

* 

Across town, Marianne wrinkled her nose at herself and muttered, “I look stupid.” 

Dawn pouted. “You do not look stupid.” 

Marianne wore one of her sister's sundresses, what Marianne thought of as cute; light blue with butterflies in a rainbow of colors flying across the skirt. But it certainly wasn't her. 

“Dawn, I appreciate your help, but...this,” Marianne motioned at the dress. “It's just not me.” Marianne sighed hopelessly. “I look like a grumpy spring fairy.” 

Dawn suppressed her giggle, but she did frown then. “Yeah...you're right, it's not you. You know...why don't you wear that really nice dress you purchased for that one party you were going to go to with Roland...I mean, before everything.” 

Marianne frowned. The dress in question was a tight, sexy, dark purple party dress that Marianne had bought for a promotion party for Roland. They were going to attend the party together after the wedding...until everything went to hell. But Marianne had never thrown out the dress...and she had never worn it, simply stuck the garment in the back of her closet. Maybe... 

Marianne went to her closet and dug around, pushing clothing around in frustration as she searched, until she found the dress in question. The dress was still in its plastic covering from the store, hanging at the very end of her closet. Marianne pulled it out, tugged the plastic off, and held the garment up against her body. The dress was short, spaghetti straps, with a daringly low drop in the back. It was sexy without being slutty. She remembered trying it on. Roland hadn't been with her (now she knew why...off seeing his other girl.) She had been by herself when she purchased it, which was probably why she hadn't taken the dress back or given it away; it wasn't tainted by a memory of Roland. 

“You don't think it's too much for a first date?” Marianne turned around in front of her closet, holding the dress against herself. She gaze at her sister who sat on Marianne's bed looking through her bag of makeup. 

Dawn glanced up and then laughed. “No, I don't. Besides, you bought the guy. You can wear whatever you want.” 

Marianne made a face. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

Dawn laughed. “Mostly I said it just for that look on your face. And no. It's a pretty dress. With those black heels you got for it, you'll look killer. That guy Bog will think he has died and gone to heaven.” Dawn giggled wickedly. 

“Ugh!” Marianne laughed. “Okay, I'll wear it! And if this date goes horribly, I'll finally get rid of the dress, okay?” 

Dawn smiled and patted the side of the bed next to her. “Let's get you ready. I just know this is going to have been the best purchase you have ever made.” 

Marianne groaned. “Oh my God Dawn, that sounds terrible!” 

Dawn giggled. “I know! That's why I said it. You bought a man!!” 

Marianne laid the dress over a chair near her vanity and flopped onto the bed next to Dawn, playfully slugging her in the arm. 

“You're a jerk sometimes for such a cutie.” 

Dawn giggled as she pulled out make-up. “I learned from the best!” 

* 

Bog pulled up in front of the house and looked down again at the address he had written on a piece of paper. He frowned as he looked back up at the house. It wasn't just a house, bur rather more like an actual mansion! Shit, Bog thought to himself, she comes from money. 

“Damn it, damn it, dammit!” he muttered. 

This just kept getting better. If she's from money, then she is going to expect...more. Bog dropped his forehead against his steering wheel with a loud groan. 

“Why is this happening to me? Why, why why?” he muttered to himself. “What did I do to deserve this?” 

He sat back up, took a few deep breaths, then opened the car door and stepped out. He walked slowly up to the house like a man condemned. The path leading to the house was red brick, winding up to the house which was surrounded by well trimmed flowering shrubs blooming with tiny white flowers. He had no idea what they were, but he had to admit they were lovely, providing a light perfume to the air. There were trees here and there along the path providing shade, as if one was walking through a secluded garden. 

When Bog arrived at the door, he frowned wondering which would be less annoying; knocking or the bell? He had just decided to knock when the door flew open and a pretty young blonde was standing there. He vaguely remembered her from the auction. She stood there with her arms behind her back, dressed in a white summer dress that made her look like one of the flowers outside. She smiled up at him. “Hi.” 

Bog frowned, glancing at the address he had written down, then leaned around the corner to examine the house number. Yup...the correct place. 

“Uh...I'm looking for Marianne Summerfield?” he asked, still uncertain if he had the right address despite the information he had written down. 

The young woman smiled. “You have the right place. I'm Dawn, Marianne's sister.” 

She put her hand out to him. Bog blinked then reached out to take her tiny hand in his. Her hand was so small that his long fingers could wrap around her hand nearly twice. It made him feel large, gangly, and awkward next to this delicate little creature. 

“Bog King,” he muttered, his accent peaking for a moment in his nervousness. 

Dawn smiled. “You're the guy Marianne won at the auction.” 

Bog blushed with a nod. “Yep.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

Dawn nodded, her eyes giving him a once over inspection that had Bog blushing even deeper. Failing inspection, he gloomily surmised. 

“Ah...is your sister here?” he asked thinking maybe he was being stood up and that wouldn't be so bad would it? He could flee back home, bury himself in some songwriting. 

Dawn looked up at him and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You didn't bring flowers.” 

Bog's eyes widened in surprise and horror. He didn't think to bring flowers! Should he have? Oh SHIT, he thought to himself. 

“I...I ah...” Bog stumbled having no excuse except it hadn't occurred to him, patting his chest as if he thought flowers would suddenly appear. 

Dawn smiled and seemed to come to a decision. “I forgive you. It's a bit old-fashioned, but next time you should bring flowers. It's a nice gesture. Come on in. Lucky for you, Daddy is out at the moment. He would grill you with twenty questions or more. But don't be offended—he would do that to anyone taking Marianne out. Especially after the “Roland” incident. Though if Daddy knew Marianne bought a guy, he would probably lose it completely!” 

Dawn put her fingers up making air quotes when she had said Roland's name. 

She turned on her heel and disappeared into the house. Bog frowned looking behind him, for a moment, seeing his car parked down at the end of the path...sanctuary. He could probably run down the path and be in the car before anyone realized he was gone. Except then his mother would find out. Bog twisted his lips in thought, wondering if his mother's wrath might be preferable when the young blonde woman came back. 

“You coming?” 

Bog stuttered. “Ah...s-sure.” 

* 

The inside of the house was nice—a little sterile in places and a bit too clean, which meant they probably had a maid. Dawn led him down a hall where photos of the family decorated the walls, a timeline of the sisters' growth, from baby pictures to high school photos. Some of the pictures had two adults, their parents Bog guessed. The woman in the photos had soft brown shoulder-length hair, big amber eyes and a beautiful loving smile. Bog could see the shadow of Marianne in the woman's face. Marianne shared a lot with her mother, he mused. Dawn on the other hand, shared some of her mother's features, but she was definitely her father's daughter, her bright eyes and blonde hair clearly her father's. 

Dawn stepped through a doorway leading Bog into a room where he stopped in confusion. They had finally arrived at...the kitchen. In the kitchen was an older woman with a pile of black hair atop her head in a messy bun that was highlighted with streaks of grey. The older woman wore a pair of jeans, blue t-shirt, and flowered apron tied over her clothing. 

Dawn stopped, her hands behind her back. “Lizzie, Bog. Bog, Lizzie. I'm going to go get Marianne!” with that Dawn seemed to flutter out of the room. 

Lizzie turned from the sink where she had been washing dishes and stared at Bog with a slight frown creasing her lips. Her dark eyes gave him a slow up and down evaluation. Bog stood there pressing his lips together thinking he must have passed judge number one and was on to judge number two. Running was still seeming like a good option when the woman named Lizzie smiled. 

“I like you. Sit, I'll pour you some milk. Cookies?” 

Bog looked confused for a moment, but he reached out and pulled a chair out at the table that sat in the middle of the kitchen and sat. “Cookies sound good,” he admitted. Lizzie grinned, pulling out a heavy ceramic pitcher from the doubled-sided refrigerator, pouring the milk into a glass she had pulled out from the cabinet next to it. She then turned to a large ceramic jar that reminded him of something Winnie-the-Pooh would have kept honey in, and after grabbing a plate, she pulled out two massive chocolate chip cookies from the depths of the 'honey' jar. She turned and set the plate down in front of him. 

Bog pursed his lips in confusion, looking up at the older woman who stood with her fists on her hips and stared at him, waiting. Bog swallowed. Clearly this was another test which he had no idea how to pass. With a slight frown he picked up a cookie and gingerly took a bite. 

The sudden explosion of chocolate sweetness on his tongue was like a little taste of a heaven. Bog couldn't help the groan of pleasure. He took a larger bite, accompanied by the same reaction of pleasure. 

Around the mouthful Bog mumbled. “These are incredible!” 

Lizzie grinned. “You pass.” 

With that, the woman seemed satisfied as she asked. “So Bog, what do you do again?” 

Bog's eyes rolled with pleasure as he took another quick bite and a sip of milk. 

He swallowed before he answered. “I write songs.” 

Lizzie nodded wiping with a rag what appeared to be an already clean surface. “Make good money doing that?” 

Bog shrugged as he sipped his milk. “Yeah, I do.” 

“What sort of car...” 

But before she could ask the question, Marianne stepped into the kitchen. Bog, who had been in the middle of bringing a cookie back up to his mouth stopped and stared at her. 

“That's enough Lizzie.” Marianne turned to look at Bog with a smile on her lips. Never had Bog seen anything or anyone as lovely as Marianne was at that moment. As a song writer and poet, of course Bog had heard phrases that talked about being stunned by the outward beauty of someone. Bog thought he had experienced it before, but looking at Marianne standing there in that purple dress, the heels that made her legs seem to go on forever, and the way the material hugged her figure...But the part of Marianne that drew his immediate attention was the smile in her eyes. A poem by Mathilde Blind came immediately to Bog's mind. 

* 

Oh, brown Eyes with long black lashes, 

Young brown Eyes, 

Depths of night from which there flashes 

Lightning as of summer skies, 

Beautiful brown Eyes! 

* 

In your veiled mysterious splendour 

Passion lies 

Sleeping, but with sudden tender 

Dreams that fill with vague surmise 

Beautiful brown Eyes. 

* 

All my soul, with yearning shaken, 

Asks in sighs— 

Who will see your heart awaken, 

Love's divine sunrise 

In those young brown Eyes? 

* 

Marianne's smile increased when she noticed that Bog had one of Lizzie's cookies in his hand. “I see you pass the cookie test.” 

Bog had to blink several times to bring his mind back to the current situation. “Cookie test?” 

He looked down at the chocolate chip cookie in his hand then between Marianne and Lizzie. Marianne chuckled. 

“Lizzie is our family cook and the best baker this side of Portland. Anyway the cookie test has been Lizzie's way of judging the quality of people. If you like her cookies, then you are obviously someone of good taste and spirit. If you don't, then you're suspect. I have to say, after Roland, I take the cookie test a lot more seriously than I used to.” Lizzie nodded and tapped the side of her nose with a grin. “Anyone who can resist my cookies is not someone you want to get mixed up with and that Roland didn't like my cookies.” 

The two women laughed. Just then Dawn came barreling back into the room with a squeal. “You passed the cookie test!” 

Bog, surrounded by three women who seemed pleased with him, (a rather unusual state of affairs) blushed beet red slowly setting the cookie down and standing up. “Ah...are you ready?” 

Marianne grinned. “Oh yes, very ready.”


	5. The Paid For Date

Bog's hands were sweaty on the wheel. He kept rubbing them back and forth trying to make the nerves go away or stop, but he was so nervous he thought he might be sick. His stomach felt like it was turning, twisting and he was sure Marianne would be able to see a slight tremor in his hands. That would make a great impression, Bog thought to himself. “How was your first date with Bog King? Oh it was great, never saw anyone throw up that much, and it was a lot...Oh and did I mention that he was shaking?” Bog groaned inwardly. This was why being locked up in his house writing songs was so much easier than dealing with the world...and women. Especially a woman like Marianne: a beautiful, gorgeous vision who deserved so much better than a tall, thin gangly idiot like him. And then the feelings that Sheila had brought up in him bubbled to the top making everything that much worse. 

He closed his eyes for a moment as the thought of Sheila resurfaced. He had never been as torn down as when she had done that to him. No one had made him feel so...disgusting. She had found every weak spot in Bog's shakey confidence and she had put enough pressure on those weak spots until they cracked, breaking him until he thought he would never be able to open himself up again, ever. 

BUT, he stressed to himself, he couldn't—shouldn't—let that color any relationship now. Marianne wasn't Sheila. She had paid to spend time with him. Bog closed his eyes trying push every ounce of self-doubt away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he told himself mentally that he was a sucessful song writer. He was a good man. He deserved to be happy. His mother was correct; Sheila was a horrible person and Marianne was as different from her as the ocean was different from the sky. He would not let his self-doubt ruin what might be a wonderful date with a lovely woman. 

Besides, he really liked Marianne. His feelings toward her were so new and different than what he had felt toward Sheila, they weren't even in the same ballpark. Marianne made him feel...good. (His nervousness was all his own, he knew.) 

He glanced sideways. Marianne had her hands resting on her lap, gazing out the window. He had never seen anyone, anywhere, as beautiful as Marianne. There was something so different about her...for a man who made his life on his ability to craft words into images, he was at a loss for words on how to describe Marianne. His gaze traveled down her slender neck, tracing the line of her narrow jaw, the way her short hair flipped in unruly waves around her head, begging him to run his hands through it. 

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Bog glanced sideways at Marianne again, working up the nerve to ask. “Would you like some music? My car has an old CD player and there are some CD's in the glove compartment.” 

Marianne smiled, hiding her nervousness. She couldn't believe she had bought and paid for him, but she was pretty sure this was the best purchase she had ever made in her entire life! Just thinking of Bog that way made her blush and want to giggle. 

She took a breath. Granted, she might be proven wrong, but so far all the signs told her this guy was a great catch. Not only was he gorgeous in a tall, lean shadowy sort of way, he was a song writer; an artist. 

When she thought about it, there were signs from the beginning with Roland, signs she chose to ignore simply because he was a good-looking man. Well, this time she was going to go all in with her eyes open. She would not be fooled again, but so far Bog seemed to be exactly what he appeared to be—a shy, sweet man, who liked a good chocolate chip cookie. 

“So, do any of these have songs you wrote on them?” Marianne asked as she opened the glove compartment pulling out a couple of the CD's and turned them over in her hand examining them and recognizing the artists. 

Bog smiled and nodded. “A couple do. I guess it's a little vain, but it's nice to hear a song I worked really hard on being performed by an artist who appreciates the music and treats the lyrics like...well like they are as precious to them as they are to me. I guess my songs are like my children. I want the best for them.” Bog shrugged, suddenly looking embarrassed. 

Marianne watched him while he spoke about his songs. It was nice to see someone take such joy in their work, such passion. The only thing that Roland ever showed any passion for was his hair. 

“I like that, someone who loves their work.” Marianne smiled. 

Bog smiled, his cheeks reddening and the tips of of his ears feeling on fire. “I love writing and I love the piano. I love music. When I was growing up, music was always an important part of my childhood. My Da played all sorts of instruments and my Mam would sing...” 

Marianne smiled watching the way Bog's eyes lit up when he began to talk about his love of music, his father and mother. 

“So what did your Da play?” Marianne turned fully to face him. 

Bog laughed softly. “What didn't my Da play? My Da played the traditional bagpipes, tin whistle, fiddle...my Da was quite talented and my Ma has the voice of an angel.” 

Marianne smiled. Anyone who would talk about their parents with that much love was definitely a good guy, she thought. 

“Which one would you recommend?” Marianne held the CD's up and Bog pointed, his attention shifting (for just a moment) from the road in front of him to her and the CD's she was holding. 

“That one has two love songs on it that I wrote...I mean...ah...” Bog swallowed wishing he could sink into his seat and out of sight right now. He sounded so ridiculous just now. Love songs? He thought, Geez, Bog, sound like a dork why don't you? A sappy dork. Bog growled at himself. 

Marianne slipped the CD into the player below the dash. “Which is the first song?” she asked. 

Bog swallowed. “Ah, you know you don't need to listen to that.” 

Marianne frowned. “I want to.” 

“It's ah, the third song and the sixth,” Bog answered softly. 

Marianne grinned forwarding to the first song. Bog started to protest again when Marianne held up a finger to his lips. Bog looked startled, his eyes nearly crossing when he glanced down at her finger then back out the window as he drove. He pressed his lips together and didn't say another word. Marianne smiled triumphantly and tapped the volume 'up' button. 

The song began to play. Marianne blinked in surprise. She knew this song! It was one of her favorites...that was until Roland had ruined everything to do with love...including this song. She turned to stare at Bog who kept glancing at her, then the road with a look of worried confusion. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“You wrote this song?” Marianne asked with awe. 

Bog of course thought something was wrong. “Yeah...ah...sorry? I mean it's not...I mean I know a lot of people don't like songs like that—you should switch it to something else...” 

“No. I mean, no Bog, I love this song! It was one of my favorites...I mean before Roland...and all of that. But wow...you wrote that...” Marianne smiled in wonderment. 

Bog shrugged. “I...uh...yeah,” he concluded with a blush. 

“That's amazing.” Marianne stared at him which made Bog uncomfortable. His ears felt like they were glowing bright red in the dim light of the car. 

Bog smiled, unsure. “Thank you.” 

* 

They arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later. The restaurant was named “The Love Potion” (which Bog had not realized until they pulled up. He had just gotten the directions from his Mam, who had told him the name of the place, but he hadn't really registered it since he was so nervous. Now he wanted to smack himself in the forehead for being an idiot. This was embarrassing.) It was not what Marianne would have thought of as a “regular” restaurant if she had been driving past it. The entrance reminded Marianne of an entrance into a theater with the awning walkway, a little red carpet and a window fountain with the name in blue sparkling letters. 

“Wow, I've never heard of this place.” Marianne smiled as she looked out the window at the restaurant. 

Bog smiled. “It belongs to a friend of my mom's. Bella Azurina. She has only been open a month of so...I think that's what Mam said.” 

Marianne started to open her car door when Bog practically fell out of the driver's side door, stumbling around the front of the car. Marianne watched him confused as he raced around the front of the car. Bog came to a stop by her door, taking a breath and opening it for her. Marianne grinned stepping out. “Thank you Bog.” 

Bog smiled shyly and took her hand, the two of them walking toward the restaurant. 

* 

The inside of the restaurant was what Marianne could only think of as gorgeous. The floor had several tables and chairs set about with a warm blue light that seemed to flow over everything. Light blue drapery flowed from the many chandielers on the ceiling making Marianne think of a wedding venue instead of a restaurant. The tables had white table cloths (which looked like blue in the light) while the chairs were all black, and each table sported a single, thick white candle. Even the carpet was blue with thick black swirls. The pictures around the restaurant were art prints, photos or paintings of flowers, mixed with images of Victorian style ads for love potions. Bog frowned as he looked around, noting that all the flowers were ones associated with love. Each bloom carried a different meaning, from ambrosia which meant one's love was reciprocated, to white hyacinth which meant loveliness. There was a gorgeously vivid picture of primroses which meant “I can't live without you” and photographs of magenta zinnia which stood for lasting affection. Bog's blue eyes widened in horror. His mother had set him up, that was the only explanation for her suggesting this “love” soaked restaurant. It he could fall into a bottomless pit, now would be the time. 

Soft music drifted through the air. Bog frowned as he recongized the song. It was an instrumental version of Strange Magic by ELO. He lifted his brows in surprise; his mother's friend had decent taste in music at least, but man it if it wasn't a love song. Bog closed his eyes in pain. Why had he listened to his mother? Why? 

He opened his eyes again glancing around...and why was everything just so blue? 

Marianne looked surprised as she gazed around. The place was nice, but definitely seemed to be aimed at couples, which she supposed they were...and for some reason that made her blush. She glanced sideways at Bog and could see that he looked ready to die of embarrassment. Marianne chuckled softly and took his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. She smiled brightly at him. Bog frowned slightly, but then returned her smile shyly. 

They walked up to the podium where a young woman with long hair dyed a soft lavender and wearing a blue “wiggle” dress the same shade of blue as the rest of the place was writing in a book. She glanced up when they approached with a smile on her shiny lips. 

“How can I help you tonight?” 

Bog glanced at her name tag. “Elizabeth. Yes, Bog King and guest.” 

She looked down at her book, her eyes tracing down the line of names before she burst into a grin. “Bog King! Yes!! We have your table ready and waiting.” 

Elizabeth led them into the restaurant. She picked up a couple of menus from behind the podium and moved with the “wiggle” as the dress was called, leading them to the back of the restaurant where several booths lined the wall. These were semicircular areas with dark blue curtains that could be closed. 

“Here we are Mr. King and...” Elizabeth smiled at Marianne, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised. 

“Marianne.” Marianne smiled and Elizabeth nodded. “Marianne. Here are your menus and you waiter will be here soon to take your order.” 

Once they were alone again, Marianne giggled. “Well, this place certainly has a theme.” 

“Sorry, my Mam said it was nice...” Bog frowned picking up the menu looking defeated, embarrassed, a combo of the two, but Marianne put her hand on his arm. “It's nice Bog. Just different. I like that.” 

Bog looked unsure, but Marianne squeezed his arm. She smiled softly. “You worry too much.” 

Bog frowned a little. “Just, you paid a lot of money...” he swallowed clearly uncomfortable. “...for me... and I want to make sure you get your money's worth out of this date tonight.” 

Marianne chuckled as she picked up her menu. “Bog. I paid for time with you and that can be spent any way and it would be worth it.” 

Bog went pale. “You don't have to say that...” 

Marianne's smile was beautiful. “I know, but it's the truth regardless.” 

She glanced down at the menu in her hands. She liked that Bog was shy, worried. He was so different from Roland's over-the-top confidence. She smiled looking at the menu. 

“So, what are you thinking about ordering?” 

Bog glanced at the menu in his hand. “Mm... maybe the pistachio crusted salmon. What would you like?” 

“Maybe the sauteed chicken and shrimp.” Marianne smiled setting down her menu. Bog tapped his chin. “That does sound good, maybe I should change mine...” 

“Why don't we just share? You could try some of mine and I could try some of yours.” Marianne asked with a soft smile. Bog met her eyes. God she's beautiful, he thought. “Yeah, sure—that sounds great.” He gave her an awkward smile. 

He was about to say something else when a young man, with short hair the same shade of blue as the young woman who had sat them, (Bog frowned wondering if blue or lavender hair was a requirement to work here) came over with a ready smile and a pad and pin. “I'll be your waiter tonight. My name is Eric. So, are the happy couple ready to order drinks?” 

Bog's eyes widened in horror when Eric called them the happy couple, but Marianne just smiled. He glanced at Marianne and she motioned for him to go ahead. Bog pressed his lips together picking up the menu again. “I'll have a vanilla soda. Marianne, feel free to have a cocktail or something. I'm a designated driver.” He grinned crookedly, making her laugh softly. 

“Okay, well then, since I have a designated driver..” Marianne grinned at Bog before she picked up the menu and scanned the selections of cocktails. She quickly noticed that they were all flower based. “Mm...how about a rose martini.” 

“Are you ready to place your food order or should I come back?” Eric smiled. 

“We are ready,” Bog answered. 

* 

After Eric left, Bog dragged his upper teeth over his bottom lip. He had a million questions for her, but how to even start was difficult. “So...ah...you bought a man...” 

As soon as the sentence was out of his mouth Bog wanted to sink under the table. That sounded not just stupid, but...well stupider than stupid. 

Marianne laughed. “Well, yeah...my sister forced me to go.” 

Bog nodded. “You ah...you said you sang?” He shook his head. “I mean, you sing for a living?” 

She nodded. “Yep. I mean, I also work part-time at a music store downtown, but yeah I'm the lead singer of a small local band. The Fairy Dancers. We mostly do covers from the 1980's, sometimes older and sometimes more recent songs, depends on who hires us...” 

Bog smiled. “I would love to hear you sing.” 

Marianne's eyes brightened. “Really? I mean, you don't have to feel obligated since I paid money for you...” 

“I don't,” he assured her. “I would really love to hear you sing. Maybe, ah, you could sing for me later?” Bog smiled softly and Marianne melted a little. 

“Sure Bog,” she agreed. 

At that moment, Eric returned with their drinks. Marianne had just started to gush a little about the rose petals in her drink when her phone rang. 

She blushed. “Sorry, I thought I turned it off.” Marianne grimaced glancing across the table at Bog. 

“It's okay. Go ahead, I don't mind,” Bog said softly with a crooked smile. 

Marianne didn't think to look at who was calling, her nerves just made her grab the phone and answer. “Hello?” 

“Marianne! I need your help again!” 

Marianne eyes widened in shock. “Roland?” 

“Yes it's me!! God Marianne, we didn't break up that long ago. Geez. I need your help again!! I'm going to be picking Becky up soon and I want to get her something special, like third date special.” Roland sounded panicked. 

Marianne sighed glancing at Bog. “It's Roland—he wants help with his date.” 

Bog blinked. “What?” 

“I know. He wants to get her something special for their third date,” Marianne said quietly as she held her thumb over the microphone on the phone facing. 

Bog frowned with one brow cocked upward. “They've been on three dates already?” 

Marianne frowned. “Yeah, I guess this is number three, but...weird or miraculous...not sure which. I would have thought maybe Roland was doing his old “prince charming” routine, but I've never heard him so...panicked and well...genuine..” 

Bog looked confused. “Roland. Genuine?” Bog shook his head slightly, more like a shiver than a real shake. 

Marianne shrugged with a confused look. 

“Hold on Roland I'm on my date with Bog, can't this wait?” Marianne pleaded, but Roland whined. “PLEASE Marianne!! I don't want to mess this up!” 

Marianne glanced back to Bog.”He says he doesn't want to mess this up.” 

Bog's frown deepened at Roland's continued interference. “Why is he calling you?” 

Marianne shrugged. “I have no idea. This is the second time.” 

Bog pursed his lips and put his hand out. “May I?” 

Marianne smiled and handed him the phone. Bog held it to his ear. “Roland, this is Bog. What seems to be the problem?” 

Roland sighed on the other end. “I want to get Becky something special for our third date and I don't know what to do! I really like her Bog, really like her and I don't want to screw this up.” 

Roland sounded genuinely upset. 

Bog's brow knitted together. “What did you do with Marianne?” 

“Well that's just it, I want to do things differently with Becky!” Roland moaned sadly. 

Bog frowned. “Roland, are you trying to play Becky? Because if you are I will...” 

“No, no, no!! I...Bog..I really like her. She...she calls me out on my bullshit and she doesn't think I'm charming, but...she still seems to like me. I'm not used to anyone liking me...just like I am.” Roland sounded shocked at his own admission. 

Bog smiled, trying not to laugh. “I would give her a single red rose. A single red rose symbolizes not just love and romance, but a single rose symbolizes love at first sight.” 

“You don't think that's too much?” Roland asked clearly worried. 

“No, I think it would be perfect.” Bog glanced over to Marianne who was sipping her drink watching him over the rim, a small smile playing across her lips. 

Roland sighed in relief. “I owe you one. Thanks.” 

Bog frowned slightly, the small crease forming between his brows was in danger of becoming a permanent fixture. “Sure thing. No problem.” 

Bog hung up the phone and handed it back to her. “That was odd.” 

Marianne laughed. “Yeah, but you know Becky...I have to respect her. She wasn't taken in by his good looks, she pegged him right away and hasn't let him get away with his usual crap, at least that is what I'm gathering from Roland. That's pretty impressive.” 

Bog smiled. “Roland just said she called him out on his bullshit. She has dealt with male models. I'm sure there is nothing Roland could have thrown at her that she hadn't already dealt with ten times over.” 

“That's what Roland needs I think, someone who sees the real him and still likes him,” Marianne said softly. “I don't really wish him anything bad...just...” 

Bog reached across the table and laid his long fingered hand along her arm. “I understand.” 

Marianne smiled and laid her hand over his, “Yeah, you do don't you. Though if you wish Sheila to walk into traffic I would totally get behind that.” 

Bog laughed patting her arm before retrieving his hand. “I think I would wish for her to find someone to treat her the way she did me actually.” 

Marianne grinned. “Even better.” 

Bog smiled and picking up his drink. “Now, no more ex's. Let's enjoy our dinner.” 

Marianne held up her drink. “To new beginnings,” she said. 

Bog smiled at her and Marianne felt her heart skip a beat as he repeated her. “To new beginnings.” 

* 

Marianne was happy, probably the happiest she had been in a long time. Dinner had been lovely. The two of them had spoken about music, writing, singing, their childhood...they had fed each other, laughed, it had been the best dinner date Marianne had had in a long time. Watching Bog talk about song writing was delightful. The way his eyes lit up as he described selling his first song, how he had gone out and bought himself a new piano. He had told her how the piano he was using at the time was an old piano he had had since he was a child. It was so old that it wouldn't hold a tune, which had forced him to learn to tune a piano on his own. He had laughed telling her how he was always replacing strings on it, keys, you name it, the piano he had needed to be replaced at some point. The poor thing had been falling apart and Bog had said he was almost ready to throw in the towel as a writer. So when he sold his first song he had been ecstatic. With his first check, Bog had told her about how he had blown the whole check on buying a new piano, a classic Steinway grand piano. Marianne had found herself opening up about how much singing meant to her, her first time on stage when she nearly threw up into the audience, but how she had been so pumped afterwards that she had sung all the way home that first night. 

Marianne put her chin in her hand just watching him, listening to his slightly accented voice talk. 

Bog found himself staring at Marianne. Watching the way her mouth moved, the way her brown eyes danced when she spoke about singing; she was so animated. That was the moment that Bog decided he was going to write her a song, a song for her to sing...something special. 

After a little bit Marianne asked, “Have you ever recorded any of your own songs?” 

Bog frowned sipping at his soda. “Nah, I don't have that good a voice. Besides, could you imagine me on a stage! I would scare the crowd into fleeing!” 

Marianne made a face at him pressing her lips together in disapproval. “Bog, you're a handsome man. With the right clothing you would look hot on stage. And as for your voice, I would like to be the judge of that.” Marianne grinned, which made Bog laugh lightly. “You, my dear, would have to get me drunk—very drunk—to get me to sing.” 

Marianne laughed. “Challenged accepted.” 

Bog blushed looking down at his soda before glancing back up at her. Marianne was smiling sipping her own drink with just a hint of mischief in her brown eyes. 

* 

Bog paid their bill and took her hand as they walked out of the restaurant. “Is there anything else you would like to do? I mean, I want to make sure you get your money's worth.” 

Marianne laughed softly. “Sure, would you like to go out for dessert?” 

Bog grinned. “I can never say no to dessert.” 

Marianne smiled. “There's a place down town called Pix. It's a French pastry shop open until midnight. They have some of the best goodies!” 

Bog grinned. “Just lead the way! I'm all for goodies.” 

Laughing together they headed to Bog's car and held hands swinging between them. 

* 

Bog was surprised he had never seen this place before and he had lived here in the city all his adult life. Pix's was a corner shop that looked as if it had come straight from France, with large glass windows, black awnings and the name of the shop over the door in vintage style lettering. While the outside made one think of pastry and coffee at a cafe in France, the inside was even better Bog thought. The interior was all blacks and warm browns that made one think of warm coffee, cozy autumn days and cool weather. Along the left wall was a large, wraparound glass display case that was filled with so many pastries that the sheer amount of choices was mind-boggling. 

Marianne led him in, holding his hand. “I love this place! They have everything you could possibly want.” She giggled then and said, “It's so sinful!” 

Bog chuckled at her assessment as they came toward one of the cases, watching Marianne's face light up with delight. While delighted by the beautifully done pastries, Bog was more pleased by the fact that Marianne continued to hold his hand. 

She pointed at the case. “So, what do you feel like?” 

Smiling softly, Bog leaned over to look into the case before glancing sideways at Marianne delighting in her expression of childlike happiness. “What would you recommend?” 

Marianne looked up at him. “You trust me?” 

Bog laughed. “Yes.” 

“Okay, well how about we get a slice of Opera cake. It's thin almond cake, chocolate ganache, cake, coffee buttercream, more cake, and more chocolate. AND we get a slice of Jubilee which is champagne mousse layered with a strawberry compote and kirsch soaked pistachio sponge cake and finished with brûléed Italian meringue!” 

Bog's eyes slid sideways, his expression amused. “Come here often?” 

Marianne blushed. “Maybe...” 

“Well, I know what I would bring you for a third date gift...a cake from here.” Bog chuckled. 

Marianne smiled a bit wider. “If you brought my favorite cake with you, it's a Un Fantôme, Un Coutea, Une Nuit..I would love you forever.” 

Bog blinked. “Wow, that's a handful of French. Why don't we get a slice of that?” 

Marianne sighed sticking her bottom lip out. That alone made Bog want to kiss her; she looked adorable pouting. 

Marianne continued to pout as he pointed at the case where an empty spot looked lonely and forlorn. “They're out.” She pointed at an empty spot in the display cabinet. 

“Well, I will make sure to get you some soon.” Bog smiled then frowned thinking to himself...wait a minute, she paid for this date, why would she want another? 

Marianne beamed at him. “I would love that.” 

“Really?” Bog asked, the slight shock clear in his expression. 

“Yes Bog, I mean, if you're asking me out on a second date...I mean, that's what we were talking about, right? I mean, in a roundabout way...” Marianne's voice trailed off staring at him. 

Bog blushed deeply as he said rather formally, turning to face her. “Marianne Summerfield, if you would like, I would love to take you on a second date.” 

Marianne beamed brightly turning to face him, letting go of his hand to put her hands behind her back. “I accept your invitation for a second date Bog King.” 

They both laughed. 

They placed their orders and took their desserts, along with two cups of white mocha latte and headed over to a table and chairs by the window. 

* 

Bog cut into one of the slices of Opera cake watching the way the fork cut into the chocolate. “Ah...would you like to go for a walk after this?” 

He carefully used the fork to scoop up the bite he had cut off before he glanced up, his heart beating hard against his chest. He still couldn't believe she was going to go out with him a second time...especially when she didn't have to... 

Marianne felt her heart do a strange little double beat as she looked at him, those intense blue eyes of his watching her, framed by those thick dark lashes of his. His gaze shot right through her. “I would love to,” she said softly. 

Bog smiled before he glanced back down at the cake, clearly pleased. Marianne pressed her lips together to stop herself from giggling (sounding like Dawn), but she had that warm happy feeling burning in her chest. She cut into her piece of a cake smiling so much that her cheeks hurt. 

* 

The evening air had turned cooler, a soft breeze having begun to blow softly, hailing the start of fall. Bog noticed that Marianne shivered slightly as they walked along the dark sidewalk, hand in hand. He let go of her hand and reached over to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Marianne smiled contently and leaned against him slightly as they walked, her arm slipping around his waist. She was buzzing slightly from the cake, coffee, her martini and just the fact that she was enjoying being with him. The sky was clear, with only a few wispy clouds floating lazily in the inky sky. Mostly though the sky was filled with the soft twinkle of stars. 

Neither of them spoke as they walked, content in each others company. Bog was wondering if giving her a kiss would be too much. Not a passionate kiss, just a soft brush across her lips. He was imagining what her lips might feel like when a shadow stepped out of the alley in front of them. 

Neither of them could see the man in front of them, but the pale, watery streetlight glinted off the metal of the blade the man was holding. 

“Give me all your money,” a rough voice growled at them.


	6. Prelude and Fugue No.2

Marianne's reaction to the mugger was aggressive and instant. She swung her purse like a flail, using her whole body to swing the bag at the man's head, knocking the man in the face hard enough that he stumbled. 

Bog reacted just as quickly. He had taken self-defense classes a while back after he had been involved in a robbery at a convenience store. He had made the mistake of going for a late night walk (this was well before he was successful) and decided to stop and purchase a bag of chips on his way home; the place had been held up. He hadn't been hurt, but the incident had made him acutely aware of how vulnerable he was and how he had wanted learn at least the basics on how to defend himself. He had ended up in a good class that had taught him not just how to defend himself, but also how to disarm someone. Bogs simply reacted without thinking, the lessons from those classes and his continued training came flooding back at this very moment. 

Bog's longer reach worked to his advantage; the mugger was holding the weapon out too far to do much good (an inexperienced knife wielder.) He might get a swipe or two, maybe even land a cut, but because he was holding the knife so far out from his body the mugger would have to throw off his balance to lean into stab at Bog. Bog's right hand snapped up, the side of Bog's thumb and fist hit the soft part of the man's wrist, while at the same time Bog brought his left hand up, hitting the back of his man's hand holding the knife. The swift movement of Bog's hands twisting the attacker's hand, forced the mugger's hand to the side. The mugger's fingers opened involuntarily and the knife dropped from his rebellious grip. 

The sound of metal rang from the pavement and made a skittering, scraping sound against the concrete. Bog started to follow up with a punch to the man's face, for a split second thinking he had just disarmed the guy, and saved Marianne, when the mugger's left fist seemed to come out of nowhere to slam Bog across his face. 

The pain was explosive as the man's fist connected with the side of Bog's nose, followed by a clear 'pop.' 

Bog let out a startled grunt, staggered back, blood instantly flooding over his lips and chin as he grabbed at his face with a shouted. “Ya bloody jobby!” 

Marianne saw Bog bleeding and something clicked in her...Dawn had called it her “Hellcat” mode...when Marianne was pissed beyond reason. She hissed at the mugger, “You hit him!” 

Marianne dropped her purse to the sidewalk and brought her arms up, her hands balled into fists and with just a little bounce on her feet. The mugger only had a moment to frown at her before Marianne took a step back and snapped her right leg out with a hard kick, her shin blasting upward right between the mugger's legs. The man groaned and nearly gagged as a nauseating pain blossomed from his crotch upward into his abdomen, chest, and made his legs shake. “Ah shit!” he managed to grit out between clenched teeth. 

Marianne grinned with a slight smirk before she was surprised by the mugger recouping and surging up to grab for her. Because she was shorter, he had surprised her and had longer reach, the mugger was able to grab her by the hair, but Marianne's surprise only lasted half a heartbeat before she snarled and started to kick, a swift hard snap kick to his knee. The mugger yelped, pitched forward and Marianne took advantage by grabbing the man by his hair herself, holding him steady while she administered several hard punches to the man's face. She heard his nose pop and the mugger cried out, but Marianne finished her four quick blows to the face by bringing her elbow down on the back of his neck. 

The man fell to the sidewalk with a groan. Marianne narrowed her eyes and gave him one more firm kick to the side, just to make sure he was down before she hurried over to Bog. It had all happened so quickly that Bog hadn't had time to get up before Marianne had the mugger down on the sidewalk and groaning in pain. 

She winced. “Oh my god Bog, I think he broke your nose!” 

Bog was staring up at her, his blue eyes perfectly round and wide, a bright blue bruise forming under each eye as he said stuffily. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.” 

She smiled and blushed...Bog couldn't believe that she actually blushed. “I took some kickboxing classes...but...wow, the way you disarmed him! That was really amazing...I mean—he had a knife! I just came in after you had already disarmed him!” 

Bog smiled, though it was painful. “I took some self-defense classes a while back.” 

They both giggled when the mugger on the ground groaned loudly. “Can you two stop flirting and call me an ambulance. I think your girlfriend broke my rib!” 

Bog and Marianne both turned to the mugger and shouted. “Shut up!” 

* 

An hour later Marianne was in the emergency room with Bog. The room was a typical emergency room with the muted light, white walls, and curtained room. The knuckles of her hand had been cleaned and bandaged, (she had scraped and cut her knuckles on the mugger's face.) She was standing next to Bog as he leaned back on the examination table that the doctor had lifted at an angle in order to examine the tall man's nose. A nurse had been in earlier to gently clean him up, but there was still a great deal of blood. The doctor, Dr. Walter Hoarse—an older man who looked like Santa Claus in a doctor's costume—gingerly examined Bog's nose. He held a pen light up looking at the inside of Bog's nose, then tenderly touched the bridge which made Bog wince. Dr. Hoarse clicked off his pen light. 

“Yup Mr. King, your nose is indeed broken. I don't think we are going to have to do surgery, but I need to snap it back into place and that is going to take a little bit of work...it didn't break completely clean.” 

Bog groaned. 

Marianne made a face. “Is that going to hurt him?” 

She reached out to lay her hand over Bog's. He rotated his hand around to grasp hers. He blushed at her touch, thinking that it was the nicest, sweetest gesture and her concern was touching. He was smiling despite the pain that seemed to radiate throughout his entire face. 

The doctor smiled. “Yes, but I'm going to give you a little numbing agent to reduce the pain. We'll need to clear the blood away too. Which isn't going to be fun,” the doctor added with a sympathetic lift of his eyebrows and a pat to Bog's shoulder. 

Bog nodded. “Thank you doctor.” 

The doctor smiled. “I'll be right back with the nurse so we can get started. There is an officer outside who wanted to get your statements, but I told him after we were finished; is that all right?” 

Bog and Marianne both nodded. Bog mumbled stuffily. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Hoarse smiled and patted Bog's knee. “No problem young man. And oh, just in case I don't get the chance later. I'm a big fan of your songs. You have a great talent. One of your songs was played at my wedding vow renewal.” 

Bog blushed. “Well, thank you.” 

The doctor smiled kindly and walked out pulling the curtain back in place. 

Bog sighed, then turned to Marianne. “You don't have to stay. Not the best way to end a date.” 

Marianne frowned at his statement, then squeezed his hand. “I'm not going to leave you here alone.” 

“I can call my mother...” Bog started to say, but the look that Marianne gave him shut his mouth quickly. 

“Bog, I'm staying and I'm taking you home. So unless you want me to do to you what I did to that mugger, stop arguing with me.” Marianne gave him a quick smile to soften her words, but she meant it. 

Bog blushed. “Thank you.” 

There was a brush of fingers against the curtain and a nurse stuck her head in. “Ah...I'm sorry, but...you're Bog King right?” The young woman was no more than early twenties with long, dark brown hair and brown eyes. 

Bog frowned and nodded. “Yes.” 

She blushed. “I am really big fan of your music and...could I get a picture?” 

Bog looked shocked. “I...I don't know...” He put a hand to his face like Vanna White. “I don't look good at the best of times, but I look worse than usual right now. Atrocious would be the correct term, I imagine.” Bog noted inwardly that speaking was also making his face hurt more. 

The young woman slipped inside. She was dressed in pink nurse scrubs. “Oh...I know...I'm real sorry, but...oh gosh, I just love your music so much and...” 

Bog sighed. “Sure.” 

The young woman squealed and hurried over leaning on his bed, her head next to his while Marianne looking bemused, stepped out of the way though she settled her bandaged hand on his shoulder. Bog reached up, his fingers threaded with hers on his shoulder while the young woman leaned in close. The young woman snapped a few pictures with her phone, then squealed. “Oh gosh, thank you so much!! I promise, you look great even with a broken nose! I better go!” She giggled again, waved and hurried out of the room. 

Marianne chuckled. “Wow, you are a big star.” 

Bog snorted, then winced as the gesture set his nose throbbing in pain. “That's unusual. Most people have no idea who I am except...you know, the people that hire me.” 

“Well, clearly that isn't the case,” Marianne said squeezing his shoulder. 

That was when the curtain was pulled back and the doctor, with a nurse pushing a table that contained a tray full of sealed instruments, stepped into the room. “Ready to get this started?” Dr. Hoarse grinned. 

Bog made a face, but he looked up at Marianne. “You don't have to stay if you don't want to. You could go ahead and give your statement.” 

Marianne frowned. “Bog, I don't mind staying in here with you—unless you don't want me to.” 

Bog frowned. “Would it be wimpy of me if I said I would like you stay?” 

Marianne grinned. “No, it would not.” 

The doctor smiled. “You two are just the cutest. Can I get an invitation to the wedding?” 

Bog and Marianne both turned bright red and the doctor laughed. “All right Bog, let's get started.” 

* 

Marianne held Bog's hand in a firm grip as the doctor have him a few local shots, and inserted some sort of tubes after clearing out as much blood as he could from his nostrils to further numb the area. 

Then the hard part came. 

With the help of the nurse, the doctor worked to realign Bog's nose. The doctor inserted a long metal instrument called a speculum into each nostril, far up along the bone and cartilage of the nose to help in the resetting, then with the nurse's help he would press on the bridge of Bog's nose on one side using the speculum in Bog's nose to press against while he worked to straighten Bog's nose. After a couple of seconds, the doctor would switch sides and repeat the procedure. Dr. Hoarse repeated the gesture several times until he was sure he had the nose aligned straight. It took nearly five minutes of this going back and forth, stopping to press on either side of Bog's nose, then repeat the whole process with the speculum before the doctor was satisfied. 

Bog never made more than a grunt of pain, but his grip on her hand would tighten painfully. She could tell he was doing his best not to grip her hand too tightly, but as the doctor and nurse worked—with Marianne trying to stay out of the way—she could tell that Bog was in a considerable amount of pain. 

The doctor stepped back and announced, “There Mr. King, all done. Now you are going to have swelling and bruising and some colorful bruises under your eyes, but I think you will be fine. I'm going to prescribe some pain killers for the next few days and an antibiotic, but you should be all right. If you have any unusual bleeding that won't stop, no mucus drainage or any sign of infection, you call right away.” 

Bog sighed, his whole body going limp. “Thanks.” 

Dr. Hoarse grinned. “No problem. Sorry that the two of you were mugged. I'm going to send the police officer in to get your statements, then you are both free to go home.” 

After the doctor left, Marianne stepped around the bed, picked up Bog's hand and kissed his knuckles. “That looked painful.” 

Bog chuckled with a tight expression. “It wasn't fun.” 

She winced in sympathy. “Well I'm going to...if you are alright with me driving your car...I'm going to drive you home.” 

“But how are you going...” Bog started, but Marianne smiled. “I can call a cab.” 

* 

They gave their statements to the police officer who was a nice young man, thorough and polite, and soon they were on their way back to Bog's place. 

Marianne was impressed. Bog's home was a long ranch-style structure with a complete stone exterior giving it an old world feel. The house had a manicured lawn, mature trees and large square windows. Marianne wasn't an architecture expert, but the house had a sort of 1960's feel to it. She would guess it had been built in the '60's, but it was also clearly updated. 

She pulled up the driveway, parking outside the garage and looked over at Bog. He had fallen asleep on the drive back, the pain pills the doctor gave him kicking in about halfway here. Luckily he had given her directions before that. She smiled. He looked so vulnerable, his head to the side, some of his hair flopping over his brow, his mouth slightly open, his face bruised and battered. She really did love the shape of his lips, very kissable, her inner voice whispered. There were blood stains on his shirt from his nose, and some dried blood on his top lip. She frowned; the poor man. 

“Bog, we're here.” She reached out and stroked the back of her fingers along his jaw. “Bog?” 

Bog groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He grinned goofy. “Hey.” 

Marianne smiled in returned. “Hey, we're here.” 

“Thanks for driving.” Bog sat up groggily. 

“No problem. Come on—let's get you inside.” Marianne hurriedly got out of the car and came around to help Bog out, picking up the bag with his medicine that was on the floor of the car. Then with her arm around his waist, and his long arm on her shoulders, Marianne led him to the door. 

When they arrived at the front door, Bog stuck his hand in his pocket searching around for his keys. Marianne laughed watching him trying to pull his keys out while struggling with being drugged. 

“Here, let me help.” Marianne stuck her hand in his front pocket. 

Bog giggled. “Careful.” 

Marianne blushed. “Sorry.” 

Bog chuckled. “It's okay.” 

Marianne was still grinning as she put the key in the door. 

* 

The inside of Bog's house was beautiful. It had a sort of peacefulness to it, not overly decorated, but with enough furnishing to give it a peaceful and lived in quality. There was a small entrance way that led into a large living room. The living room had a high vaulted ceiling while the floors were white and grey marble with a few throw rugs here and there. 

Once they were inside, Bog reached over and let go of Marianne as he flipped on the light. The living room, which was located right in front of her, had a large cream colored throw rug with a marble beige, green and red mottling to it. There was a large black sectional couch surrounding a glass coffee table where a few books sat all arranged in front of a fireplace that was set into the wall. That wall was the accent wall which had oak paneling and a large flat screen TV hanging on the wall above the fireplace. But the best part of room, to Marianne, was the fact that Bog had a piano. 

The living room moved seamlessly into the dining room where Bog had a small black table and chairs, then that flowed into the kitchen, which was all black and white marble counter tops and cabinets, looking both old fashioned and ultra modern at the same time. 

Bog smiled. “Ah, have a seat. I'm going to go change into something less blood stained. Ah...would you like something to put on...there's some blood on your outfit. Sorry about that...maybe I could wash it for you?” 

Marianne looked startled. She looked down at herself. There was indeed some blood, not a lot, but she was pretty sure her outfit was ruined. “If you have some sweats and a t-shirt that you think will fit. Don't worry about washing it, but I appreciate the offer.” 

Bog smiled shyly. “No problem. Make yourself comfortable and I'll be right back.” 

While Bog disappeared down the hall, Marianne walked into the living room. There were some lovely pictures of landscapes on the wall, but she noticed that there were only a few more personal pictures and most of those were of him and his mother. Bog had no brothers or sisters, no extended family. Some of the pictures looked to be from Scotland, the two of them standing in front of a castle, another in front of a pub. Marianne smiled as she noticed a few pictures of a much, much younger Bog with his mother and an older man who looked a great deal like Bog; blue eyes, dark hair...sharp features, tall and thin. Bog definitely took after his father, that's who the man in the pictures had to be...the man was smiling, his arm around Griselda and Marianne's heart twisted. She knew what that was like, to lose a parent, but she had Dawn, someone to share her grief with. Bog had been all alone. 

Marianne touched the glass of one picture, Bog as a little boy in shorts and a t-shirt, his black hair a mess. The little boy had mud on his face...smiling ear to ear as he sat on his father's shoulders. His father was laughing in the picture, his hands around his son's ankles, the wind was blowing, and she could see a hint of the ocean behind them. 

“Would you like some coffee?” 

Marianne jumped slightly and turned to see Bog, now dressed in a pair of loose grey lounge pants and a t-shirt with Iron Maiden on the front. He looked to have washed his face and had gotten his hair damp. He still looked pale, the bruise having spread and darkened which made her wince in sympathy for him. She smiled. Somehow, he managed to look more attractive like this—dressed comfortably for a night at home—than when he was dressed up and he looked damn good dressed up. She also noticed that he was holding some clothes for her. 

“Coffee sounds great,” Marianne acknowledged with a smile as she walked over to him and took the offered clothes. 

“You can change in my bedroom, which is the last on the left or the guest bedroom on the right. There's a bathroom in each room and another bath on the left in the hall...just whichever you like. I'll get the coffee started.” Bog smiled shyly. Marianne's heart twisted. He looked so fragile with his swollen nose and the bruises under his eyes. 

“Thanks Bog.” She smiled and headed in the direction he had indicated. 

Marianne ended up going to Bog's room...curiosity compelling her to see what his bedroom looked like. 

When she walked into his room, she was greeted by a masculine yet comfortable room. Bog's room contained a king sized bed with a crisp white and grey comforter, and full pillows...it looked nice and comfortable. He had two accent walls, one of oak paneling like in the living room, the other a black textured wall behind the head of the bed. The room had a carpeted floor unlike the living room, with a thick grey carpet, which, when she took her shoes off, was pleasantly soft under her toes. Marianne grinned pressing her toes into the carpet resisting the urge to jump onto his bed. She smiled thinking to herself that the sheets probably smelled enticingly like him... 

Bog had a flat screen TV in here on the wall, a guitar in the corner, a nice Gibson, but the color was amazing, a cobalt blue. There was also a dark wooden table covered in handwritten pages, sticky notes, along with several cups filled with pencils and pens. When she stepped closer she could see that the pencils all had bite marks in them. On his bedside table was a book. She walked over, her hands behind her back to read the title and was surprised to see it was a book of poetry. 

As she walked around the room she could see that Bog had a stereo system, with speakers that were mounted in the corners of the room. There were large square window in this room with heavy dark curtains. She stepped over to one of the windows pulled back the curtain and looked outside. Even though it was dark she could see the patio and the pool in the backyard. 

Bog clearly made good money selling his music. 

There were no pictures in this room, none of family, friends...nothing. She frowned a little at that, but then she put it out of her mind as she quickly undressed, (giggling when she rolled out the t-shirt to see that it was an old Ozzy Ozbourne t-shirt and laughing more when she put on the sweatpants which hit around her waist and hips but length of the pants was ridiculous) slipping on the clothing that Bog had given her. She walked into the bathroom to wash her makeup off and stopped to stare at the master bathroom. It was done in a shade of golden beige, with an all glass shower, dark wood cabinets and a mirror that ran the entire length of one wall. Marianne whistled softly; it was a gorgeous bathroom. 

Marianne shook her head thinking to herself: nice, very nice. She could get used to this...she stared at herself in the mirror as she realized what she had just thought...like...she would be staying here at some point. Marianne giggled, her cheeks turning bright red, already planning ahead...she shook her head with amusement and washed her face. Nothing wrong with a little fantasizing, she thought as she grabbed the soap. 

* 

After changing, (Bog had even given her a pair of white crew socks which she put on, carrying her shoes instead), she came out of the bedroom and was greeted not just by the scent of rich coffee, but also by the sounds of a piano playing softly. Marianne tiptoed down the hall and stepped quietly to the corner. She slowly eased herself around to look into the living room. 

Bog was sitting at the piano, his eyes closed while his long fingers moved deftly over the keys. Despite the fact that he was dressed in lounge pants, an old rock band t-shirt, and socks, his nose swollen and bruises under his eyes, she had never seen anything as beautiful as watching and listening to him play. He was playing a classical piece. It took Marianne several seconds to place the tune, Bach...she was sure it was Bach. She searched her brain...she had heard this at a concert she had gone to with her father....Bach's Prelude and Fugue No. 2. 

She smiled as she watched Bog play. He was completely unaware of his surroundings as he let himself fall into the music. The sound of a piano this close was breathtaking. Marianne stepped lightly into the living room, making her way to the couch. Bog didn't once open his eyes as he played, moving his body to the music while his fingers danced flawlessly over the keys, filling the room with music. She sat on her knees leaning her arm on the back of the couch as she watched him. 

He played until the end of the piece hitting the last few keys before he opened his eyes. Marianne applauded. “Oh Bog that was wonderful!!” 

Bog looked slightly startled to see her, then he blushed. “Thank you. Ah...the coffee is ready.” He smiled shyly. 

Marianne stood up, moved over to him and took his hand, walking into the kitchen with him. He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand gently. “So, how do you take your coffee?” 

“Cream and sugar?” Marianne said and Bog laughed. “You don't know?” 

She gave him a playful nudge with her hip which made him laugh. He let go of her hand to pull down a couple of mugs; one was black with marks on it, three measurements, one read now talk, the second read almost and the third mark at the top read Shhh. The mug that Bog handed Marianne had the definition of “Fuck” on it. Bog handed the mug to her then yelped to grab it back. “Sorry!” 

Marianne snatched the mug from him and held it to her chest. “Oh no you're not getting this one back! I love it!” 

Bog laughed. “It was a joke from my mother.” 

She laughed. “I need one.” 

Bog grinned pulling out the sugar and walking over to the fridge to get the cream out. “I'll get you one.” 

He pulled the coffee pot out from the machine and filled her cup, then his, watching her while she made her cup and took a sip from his own. He made a face. 

Marianne frowned. “What's wrong?” 

“Tastes funny with my nose like this.” Bog muttered, setting the cup down. 

Marianne frowned. “I'm sorry Bog.” 

He shrugged then he looked a little unsure as he said. “Despite the mugger, I—I had a nice time tonight.” 

Marianne sipped her coffee leaning against the cabinet. “Me too. Never been to an emergency room with a guy before.” 

Bog chuckled. “Glad to stand out from the crowd.” 

Marianne smiled at him and set her coffee mug down walking over to where he was leaning against the counter by the coffee maker. She laid her hands on his chest while Bog stared at her. She leaned in close, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “I had a very good time Bog.” 

He swallowed nervously, looking down at her. His eyes were perfectly round and wide as he stared at her, his hands were gripping the counter behind him as if he wasn't sure whether to reach out and touch her or not. Marianne stood up on the tips of her toes, looking into his eyes. “Is it all right if I kiss you Bog?” 

Bog swallowed pressing his lips together before he said softly. “If...if you want to...yes.” 

She smiled. “I would like to very much.” 

Marianne leaned in and pressed her mouth to Bog's. Bog slowly brought his hands around, placing them on her waist. Marianne slid her tongue along his lips tracing out their shape until Bog slowly opened his mouth to her. She brushed his tongue with hers, her arms gliding around his neck. Bog made a tiny sound, a soft moan of pleasure, wrapping his arms fully around her figure. Marianne pressed herself against him. One of Bog's hands slid up her back, the other staying around her middle as he leaned into her kiss, deepening the moment even more. 

Marianne moaned softly, her tongue gliding along his, fighting the urge to jump up and wrap her legs around him. She moved her mouth over his and turned her head, bumping the tip of his nose. Bog grunted and pulled back. 

“Oh my god Bog, I'm so sorry!” Marianne grimaced and cringed. 

Bog winced touching his nose. “It's fine...worth it.” 

Marianne giggled. “Want to try again?” 

Bog grinned. “Sure.” 

* 

They ended up on his couch, Marianne curled up next to him while Bog gently cupped her face while they continued to kiss until Marianne was sure her lips were pleasantly numb from the stubble on his chin and upper lip. She didn't want to stop; his kisses were sweet and passionate. He took his time to explore not just the texture of her tongue, but his lips, soft and gentle, caressed her mouth in such a way she was surprised she didn't melt right on the spot. 

Bog pulled away from her mouth to lay his forehead against hers. Marianne smiled tenderly caressing his jaw. Bog whispered softy. “I should call you a cab.” 

Marianne sighed. “I suppose so. You're due for another pain pill and you need some sleep. Uh...would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?” 

Bog smiled. “There is nothing in the world I would rather do than have lunch with you tomorrow.” 

Marianne giggled. “Seriously?” 

He laughed lightly, his long fingers stroking her throat. “Seriously.” 

Marianne smiled blushing. “All right then, how about I pick you up around eleven a.m.?” 

Bog's fingers stroked her ear catching her lobe in a tender caress. “I will be ready with bells on.” 

* 

Bog walked Marianne out to the taxi, both of them in their socks, but they held hands as they walked out to the waiting car. 

“I'll make sure to bring back your clothing.” Marianne said as she turned at the taxi, leaning on the door. 

Bog stood still looking down at her. “No hurry, you can keep them.” 

Marianne grinned. “I just might.” She tugged on the hem of the t-shirt. “Killers was a good album, sure, but I think Piece of Mind is my favorite.” 

Bog chuckled and said, “That's hot.” Then he reached around her to open the door which caused Marianne to bump up against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her to him as he stepped back to finish opening the door. They stood there looking at each other. 

The cabby sighed turning to lean over the back seat. “Hey, kiss her goodbye or take her back inside buddy. I ain't got all night.” 

Bog blushed and muttered. “"Haud yer wheesht man...” 

The taxi driver muttered with a smirk, “Damn kids.” 

Marianne giggled softly. “So, tomorrow?” 

Bog nodded. “Tomorrow. Good night Marianne.” 

She blushed. “Good night Bog.” She turned and slipped into the taxi. She giggled reaching for the door and glanced at Bog. “You're the best purchase I've ever made.” 

Bog turned every shade of red possible as Marianne shut the door. She waved through the window and Bog waved back grinning ear to ear, the pain of his nose just a distant nagging. 

* 

The next morning Marianne, still in Bog's clothing from last night, was practically floating as she came into the kitchen for breakfast. Dawn was sipping her tea and flipping through a magazine when she saw her sister. “Oh MY GOD Marianne!! I've been waiting forever for you to get up!!” 

Marianne stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Lizzie, who was scrambling eggs at the stove turned to look over at Marianne. “What happened last night?” 

Marianne frowned. “What are you two talking about? Bog and I had a great time.” 

Dawn reached over and grabbed her pad from the table and with a touch she was online and held up the pad. Marianne frowned, blinked away some sleep to look. There on the front page of an entertainment website was a picture of Bog with the nurse from last night who had requested a picture with the headline. 

“Song writer Bog King in the hospital.” 

Marianne's eyes quickly scanned the article and she paled. An anonymous source claimed that Bog King, author of such hit songs as “The Everlasting Heart” and “Beyond” was hit by a woman who purchased him at an charity auction...Marianne didn't bother to read the rest as she pulled out a chair and sat down. 

“What the fuck?!” she muttered. 

Lizzie scowled. “Watch your profanity Marianne Summerfield, you know better than that.” 

Dawn put her pad down. “So what happened? Did you hit him?” 

“NO! We went for a walk after dinner and got mugged! Bog disarmed the guy. The mugger had a knife and it was amazing by the way, Bog disarming the jerk like a pro...but the mugger hit him!” Marianne groaned. “Well, shit!” 

Lizzie sighed. “Marianne!” 

“Sorry! The picture was taken by some nurse in the emergency room. See that hand on his shoulder, that's me.” Marianne pointed at the picture, then her hand which was still bandaged. 

Dawn frowned. “What happened to your hand?” 

“I beat the shi...” She glanced at Lizzie before she continued. “I beat the crap out of the mugger.” 

Dawn giggled. “Well at least you got to use those kickboxing classes you took. Well, you and Bog are just going to have to set this straight. Stupid gossip rag.” 

“I asked him to lunch today,” Marianne revealed with a smile. 

Dawn and Lizzie both squealed with excitement. 

Dawn grinned happily. “So, you really like this guy, eh?” 

Marianne smiled. “I really like this guy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters this will be but I promise it won't be super long.


End file.
